3.  3/.  o' 


Srom  fljc  £t6rarp  of 

(profeeBor  HWfiam  QUtffer  Qpajton,  ©.©.,  ££.©. 
^reeenfefc  Bp  QTlre.  (parfon 
to  f0e  fetfirarg  of 


(prtncefon  C^eofogtcaf  ^eminarg 


BX  8333 

. P73  S38 

— \ 

Punshon , 

Willi  am  Mor 1 ey , 

1824-1881 . 

Sermons 

PUNSHOFS  SERMONS. 


SERMONS 

BY 

REV.  WILLIAM  MORLEY  PUNSHON. 

TO  "WHICH  IS  PEEFIXED 

A  PLEA  FOR  CLASS-MEETINGS, 


AND 


AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  REY.  WILLIAM  H.  MILBURN. 


NEW  YORK: 

DERBY  &  JACKSON,  498  BROADWAY. 

1860. 


Ektered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1860,  by 
DERBY  &  JACKSON, 

In  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District  of 

New  York. 


W.  H.  Tinson,  Stereotyper. 


Geo.  Russell  &  Co.,  Printers. 


CONTENTS. 


\  FAGIB 

INTRODUCTION  by  Rev.  W.  H.  Milburn, .  v 

PRELIMINARY  PLEA  FOR  CLASS-MEETINGS, .  21 

I. — MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY, .  43 

II. — THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY, .  61 

III. — THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT, .  93 

IV. — SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD, .  119 

V. — THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST, .  139 

VI. — ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST, .  162 

VII. — THE  CHRISTIAN’S  INHERITANCE, .  183 

VIII. — THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR, . . . 205 

IX.— THE  CHRISTIAN’S  DEATH,  LIFE,  PROSPECTS  AND 

DUTY, . 221 

X.— THE  APOSTLE'S  GROUND  OF  TRUST . 249 

XI. — THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION, . 216 

XII. — THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB— HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS 

LESSONS, .  291 


' 

* 


" 

■ 


INTRODUCTION. 


On  a  bright  sunshiny  morning  (and  such  were  strangely 
frequent  in  London  in  the  summer  of  1857)  I  drove  from  my 
lodgings,  Little  Ryder  street,  St.  James’,  two  or  three  miles 
in  a  southwesterly  direction  to  Brixton  Hill  Wesleyan  Chapel. 
The  edifice  was  that  day  to  be  dedicated  to  the  worship  of 
Almighty  God,  and  the  preacher  on  the  occasion  was  the 
Rev.  William  Morley  Punshon.  I  had  heard  much  of 
him,  and  was  naturally  desirous  to  listen  to  one  who  was 
called  the  most  eloquent  of  living  Wesleyan  preachers. 

As  I  reached  the  chapel  in  advance  of  the  time  for  com¬ 
mencing  the  service,  I  entered  the  vestry,  where  I  was 
introduced,  among  others,  to  the  preacher  I  had  come  to 
hear.  He  seemed  a  man  about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height, 
rather  inclined  to  corpulency,  for  one  of  his  age  (not  then, 
I  should  say,  above  thirty-four),  with  by  no  means  a  strik¬ 
ing  or  expressive  face  when  in  repose,  and  possessed  of  a 
voice  rather  husky  and  not  at  all  prepossessing. 

His  dress  was  that  of  all  Wesleyan  ministers  in  England, 
closely  approaching  the  style  of  the  clergy  of  the  estab¬ 
lished  church — the  invariable  white  neck-tie  surmounting 
the  uniform  of  black.  The  appointed  hour  arrived,  and 
we  entered  the  chapel. 

vil 


viii 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  prayers  of  the  church  of  England — excepting  the 
Litany — were  read  by  the  superintendent  of  the  circuit 
from  a  desk  on  one  side  of  the  chancel.  Mr.  Punshon  then 
mounted  a  desk  on  the  other  side  of  the  chancel,  gave  out 
a  hymn,  and  offered  a  brief  extemporaneous  prayer. 

His  reading  was  not  at  all  impressive,  and  I  began  to 
wonder  whether,  indeed,  he  could  be  an  orator.  In  truth, 
I  had  been  so  often  disappointed  that  I  had  almost  come  to 
regard  a  reputation  for  eloquence  as  primd  facie  evidence 
against  a  man’s  possessing  it,  and  I  was  tempted  to  think 
in  this  case,  that  I  was  once  more  befooled.  The  preacher 
took  his  text  and  proceeded  with  the  discourse.  A 
brief  exegetical  introduction  was  followed  by  the  announce¬ 
ment  of  the  points  he  meant  to  treat.  The  arrangement 
of  the  sermon  was  textual,  methodical  and  Wesleyan. 
The  English  take  far  less  latitude  in  such  matters  than 
we.  The  Wesleyans  are  Wesleyans  indeed,  imbued  with 
the  spirit  and  almost  adhering  to  the  letter  of  our  Great 
Founder.  Well-nigh  every  sermon  has  its  three  heads,  and 
each  head  its  three  subdivisions,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
third  “  thirdly,”  comes  a  close,  searching,  and  practical  appli¬ 
cation.  This  style  seems  to  be  considered  almost  indispens¬ 
able  to  orthodoxy,  and  forms  a  striking  contrast  to  the  large, 
often  latitudinarian,  and  frequently  helter  skelter  freedom  of 
style  allowed  in  this  country,  where  all  manner  of  truth, 
and  even  untruth,  is  preached  from  any  text  that  may  be 
selected,  under  the  plea  that  the  style  is  “  topical.” 

The  form  of  the  English  pulpit  obliges  the  preacher  to  ad¬ 
here  to  a  pulpit  manner.  It  is  modelled  upon  the  shape  of 
the  little  wooden  boxes  we  see  in  Roman  Catholic  churches 
in  this  country,  affording  room  for  one  person  only — access 


INTRODUCTION. 


ix 


to  it  being  gained  by  a  long  flight  of  winding  steps,  and 
when  you  have  toiled  to  the  dizzy  height,  you  find  yourself 
overlooking  the  galleries,  and  perched,  perhaps  twenty 
feet  above  the  floor.  Not  a  little  self-control  must  be 
practised  by  the  preacher,  and  he  is  compelled,  whether 
he  will  or  not,  to  pay  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  the 
laws  of  gravitation,  and  other  decorous  regulations,  or 
the  stern  penalty  of  a  tumble  may  be  enforced  upon  him. 

The  platform  of  this  country  (for  our  pulpits  are  nothing 
more),  in  its  slight  elevation  above  the  floor,  its  nearness  to 
the  people,  its  susceptibility  to  impression  from  the  audi¬ 
ence,  and  the  vantage-ground  it  affords  the  preacher  for 
imbuing  the  hearers  with  his  own  sympathies,  is  a  great 
advance  upon  the  English  desk,  and  a  near  approach  to  the 
ambo  of  the  early  Church.  The  difference,  as  to  the  stand¬ 
ing-ground  of  the  preachers  of  the  two  countries,  is  signi¬ 
ficant — almost  symbolic — of  the  difference  of  their  styles. 

The  English  seem  to  fancy,  that  our  method,  in  its 
reach  after  the  people,  its  disloyalty  to  technical  rule, 
its  range  of  illustration,  and  its  disuse  of  a  strict  theo¬ 
logical  phraseology,  as  well  as  in  its  free  adoption  of  the 
language  of  common  life,  borders  upon  a  reprehensible 
looseness. 

To  the  American,  on  the  other  hand,  the  close  adherence 
to  models,  the  almost  single  variation  between  a  dogmatic 
and  hortatory  style,  and  the  employment  of  a  limited  range 
of  words,  not  so  much  Scriptural  as  conventional,  make  the 
English  pulpit  appear  formal.  No  doubt  each  could  learn 
something  of  advantage  from  the  other ;  and  it  seemed  to 
me,  that  Mr.  Punshon  occupied  the  enviable  position  of 
standing  midway  between  the  two,  with  many  of  the 

1* 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


advantages  of  both.  He  is  systematic,  yet  untrammelled, 
and  while  technical  in  his  arrangement,  he  is  still  free  and 
varied  in  illustration.  Confining  himself  to  the  legiti¬ 
mate  themes  of  the  pulpit,  he  at  the  same  time  does  not 
despise  the  use  of  general  literature.  His  aim  seems  to  be 
to  make  men  Christians — either  to  convert  them  from  sin,  or 
to  establish  them  in  holiness,  not  to  teach  them  political 
economy,  to  educate  them  in  aesthetics,  to  afford  them 
brilliant  disquisitions  in  metaphysical  science,  or  to  enforce 
on  them  the  flattering  assurance,  that  the  private  soul  (that 
is,  the  essential  me)  is  higher  and  grander  than  society, 
state,  church,  law,  or  Scripture. 

The  staple  of  his  discourses,  when  I  heard  him,  concerned 
man’s  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare,  and  did  not  consist  in 
flowers,  stars,  breezes  or  clouds.  I  should  say  that  he  is 
better  read  in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  John,  than 
in  those  of  the  Gnostics,  and  that  he  holds  the  canon  of 
Scripture  to  be  binding  upon  men,  as  a  rule  of  faith  and 
practice. 

As  to  politics,  I  have  a  suspicion  (but  I  can  only  state  it 
as  a  suspicion,  for  I  heard  him  say  nothing  on  the  subject), 
that  he  prefers  the  English  Revolution  of  1088,  to  the 
French  Revolution  of  1789  ;  and  that  he  holds  the  powers 
that  be,  are  ordained  of  God,  and  not  of  the  Devil ;  and 
therefore,  if  he  taught  anything  on  the  subject,  that  he 
would  teach  fealty  to  the  constitution  of  the  land  in  which 
he  lives,  loyalty  to  the  law,  obedience  to  constituted 
authority,  as  the  duty  of  every  good  citizen,  and  not,  that 
insubordination  and  revolution  are  the  crowning  glories  of 
every  regenerate  soul.  He  is  liberal,  but  his  liberality  is 
not  the  equivalent  of  a  contempt  for  oi’thodoxy  ;  and  while 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


some  of  liis  countrymen  may  esteem  him  a  progressive,  I 
hardly  think  his  progressiveness  consists  in  the  recently 
expounded  doctrine  of  consistency,  “  be  true  to  yourself  to¬ 
day — no  matter  what  you  said  or  did  yesterday  ” — that  is 
to  say,  progress  and  the  weathercock  are  one  and  the  same 
thing. 

As  Mr.  Punshon  advanced  in  his  discourse  on  that  pleas¬ 
ant  June  morning,  an  occasional  emphasis,  applied  with 
judgment,  betokened  the  practical  speaker;  and  the  finish 
of  his  sentences  betrayed  thorough  preparation.  As  he 
warmed  to  his  work,  quickening  at  the  same  time  the  gait 
of  his  articulation,  you  found  him  gaining  a  strong  hold 
not  only  upon  your  attention,  but  upon  your  feelings  ;  and 
you  discovered  that  underneath  the  ample  and  rather  loose 
folds  of  adipose  tissue  with  which  his  outer  man  is  in¬ 
vested,  there  are  great  stores  of  electrical  power.  He  pos¬ 
sesses  that  attribute  indispensable  to  the  orator,  for  which 
we  have  no  better  name  than  magnetic.  You  are  rooted 
as  by  a  spell,  and  surrender  for  a  time  the  guidance  of  your 
own  thoughts.  You  have  dropped  the  helm  of  your  mind, 
for  a  more  skillful  pilot  has  for  the  nonce  taken  your  place 
at  the  tiller. 

Occasionally,  you  find  the  speaker’s  power'  over  you 
going  to  such  lengths  as  to  control  your  respiration,  and 
you  breathe  as  he  breathes,  or  as  he  gives  you  liberty.  Who¬ 
ever  has  known  the  delicious  pain  of  a  long,  deep  inhalation 
• — half  a  sigh  of  relief,  half  a  welcome  of  the  outer  world 
for  the  time  forgotten — while  listening  to  a  speaker  with 
such  rapt  earnestness  that  every  faculty  of  mind  and  senso 
is  concentrated  in  the  one  act  of  hearing,  has  felt  what  ora¬ 
tory  is.  He  has  felt  it,  but  can  he  describe  it  ?  He  might 


INTRODUCTION. 


•  • 

XU 

as  well  attempt  to  describe  the  thrill  of  love  or  rapture.  I 
doubt  not,  Mr.  Punshon  has  showed  many  people  what  ora¬ 
tory  is,  and  made  them  to  know  the  power  of  the  orator ; 
but  I  question  much  if  he  can  teach  them  the  power  of  his 
art,  or  how  to  analyze  and  define  it.  It  is  not  the  power  of 
intellect,  for  I  have  seen  and  heard  nothing  from  him 
extraordinary  as  an  intellectual  production.  It  does  not  lie 
in  his  taste — I  am  not  sure  it  that  would  bear  the  test  of 
rigid  criticism.  It  is  not  in  the  exhibition  of  stores  of  learn¬ 
ing;  his  life  has  been  too  busy  and  practical,  to  enable 
him  to  gain  great  stock  of  lore.  It  is  not  in  the  tricks  of 
a  charlatan  or  the  skill  of  an  actor,  for  Mr.  Punshon  is 
a  sincere,  devout  and  godly  man.  The  charm  of  eloquence 
retreats  from  the  scrutiny  of  analysis  as  life  retires  from 
the  knife  of  the  anatomist. 

Before  he  has  reached  his  major  “  thirdly,”  it  is  all  over 
with  your  independent  consciousness ;  you  have  yielded  at 
discretion  and  are  the  prisoner  of  his  feeling.  I  am  half  in¬ 
clined  to  believe  that  his  own  intellect  is  in  the  same  plight, 
and  that  memory  acts  as  the  warder  of  the  brain,  under 
writ  from  the  lordly  soul.  You  have  thrown  criticism  to 
the  dogs ;  your  ear  has  exchanged  itself  for  an  eye ;  the 
bone  and  flesh  of  your  forehead  become  delicately  thin,  as 
the  lamince  of  the  cornea,  and  your  brain  seems  endowed 
with  the  power  of  the  iris.  You  enjoy  the  ecstasy  of  vision, 
and  as  the  speaker  stops  you  recover  yourself  enough 
to  feel  that  you  have  had  an  apocalyptic  hour. 

It  seems  to  me,  that  the  true  measure  of  eloquence  is 
found,  not  so  much  in  what  is  said  as  in  what  is  sug¬ 
gested  ;  not  so  much  in  the  speaker’s  ability  to  convey  to 
you  an  idea,  as  to  suffuse  you  with  tbo  glow  of  a  senti- 


INTRODUCTION. 


xiii 


ment ;  not  so  much  in  the  truth  which  is  uttered,  as  in  the 
soul  behind  the  truth,  of  which  you  become,  for  the  time, 
a  sharer. 

Mr.  Punshon  is  much  more  of  an  orator  than  any  man  I 
heard  in  England.  In  society  he  is  simple,  quiet,  and  ge¬ 
nial  ;  his  excellent  good  sense,  and  unaffected  piety  deliver 
him  from  the  snares  of  egotism,  and  the  foolish  weakness 
of  self-conceit.  The  chalice  of  praise  turns  many  a  great 
man’s  head.  The  goblet  which  the  English  public  has 
offered  to  Mr.  Punshon  is  huge  and  brimming ;  but  if  the 
contents  have  affected  him,  I  did  not  discover  it.  I  have 
an  idea,  that  he  gives  close  and  scrupulous  heed  to  the 
Apostle’s  admonition :  “  Let  no  man  among  you  think 
more  highly  of  himself  than  he  ought  to  think,  but  let  him 
think  soberly,  righteously,  according  as  God  has  dealt  to 
every  man  the  measure  of  faith.” 

Mr.  Punshon  is  not  as  robust  as  he  looks.  He  is  not  able 
to  study  closely  more  than  three  hours  at  a  time,  and  fre¬ 
quently  not  more  than  that  out  of  the  twenty-four  hours. 
He  prepares  himself  for  the  rostrum  and  pulpit  with  the 
most  scrupulous  and  exhaustive  care.  I  should  say  that  the 
greater  part  of  his  sermons  and  lectures  are  committed  to 
memory,  and  delivered  almost  word  for  word,  as  they  were 
beforehand  composed.  His  recollection  is,  therefore,  at 
once  quick  and  tenacious.  This  plan,  while  it  insures  a 
higher  average  of  public  performance  and  saves  him  from 
many  mortifying  failures,  at  the  same  time  shuts  him  out 
from  the  ground  of  highest  power. 

“  Mr.  Punshon  was  born  (I  now  quote  from  reliable 
authority)  on  the  29th  of  May,  1824,  and  successfully  passed 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


his  examination  for  the  Wesleyan  ministry  in  the  year  1845. 
He  is  a  native  of  Doncaster,  and  is  related,  on  the  mother’s 
side,  to  the  Morleys  of  that  town,  and  since  of  Hull,  Sir 
Isaac  Morley  being  his  uncle.  The  only  child  of  his  parents, 
he  early  displayed  that  wonderful  memory  for  which  he  is 
now  so  remarkably  distinguished,  and  a  propensity  to  store 
it  with  facts  which  rarely  interest  mere  boys.  At  the  Don¬ 
caster  Grammar  School,  where  he  was  educated,  he  is  said 
not  to  have  discovered  any  surprising  proficiency ;  but 
when  still  a  child  he  was  able  to  name  nearly  all  the  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  House  of  Commons,  with  the  places  for  which 
they  sat,  and  the  color  of  their  politics. 

“In  early  life  he  associated  himself  with  the  Wesleyan 
Methodists,  to  which  religious  body  his  family  belonged ; 
but  public  affairs  continued  to  be  his  ruling  passion,  and 
the  most  surprising  thing  is,  that  his  oratory,  instead  of 
adorning  the  Methodist  chapel,  should  not  have  been  electri¬ 
fying  the  chapel  of  St.  Stephen.  When  his  grandfather  and 
uncles  removed  to  their  establishment  in  Hull,  he  was  placed 
in  their  counting-house  as  junior  clerk.  He  may  have  had 
talents  for  business,  but  his  inclination  ran  in  another  direc¬ 
tion.  During  the  three  years  that  he  was  supposed  to  be 
making  out  invoices  and  footing  up  ledgers,  he  was  absorbed 
in  newspapers  ;  and  the  only  account  he  cared  to  keep  was 
of  the  way  in  which  the  representatives  of  the  peojde  voted 
in  Parliament. 

“  In  the  debates  nobody  was  better  posted  up.  The 
temptation  of  a  daily  newspaper  was  irresistible  ;  and  while 
the  other  clerks  were  deep  in  figures,  he  was  culling  figures 
of  speech  from  the  orators  of  the  Reformed  Parliament — 
watching  the  opening  genius  of  Gladstone  and  Macaulay, 
noting  the  maturer  excellences  of  Peel  and  Palmerston,  and 
marking  the  finest  flights  of  Shiel  and  O’Connell  for  his 
own.  The  predilections  of  a  young  politician  are  seldom 
of  much  importance ;  but  it  so  happened  that  young  Pun- 
shon’s  devotion  to  newspaper  studies  threw  him  into  the 


INTRODUCTION. 


XV 


society  of  three  young  men  who  were  earnest  disciples  of 
the  then  newly  horn  conservative  opinions  of  Sir  Robert 
Peel  and  his  adherents,  and  who  held  weekly  meetings  to 
strengthen  each  other  in  their  political  faith.  Once  a  month 
one  of  them  read  a  paper  to  the  rest  on  a  given  subject ; 
and  though  not  more  numerous  than  the  celebrated  knights 
of  the  thimble  in  Tooley  street,  they  called  themselves  u  The 
Menticultural  Society.”  Two  of  the  three  survive,  one 
being  a  Wesleyan  minister,  and  the  other  a  clergyman  of 
the  Established  Church.  In  these  weekly  discourses  and 
monthly  lectures,  Mr.  Punshon  first  distinguished  himself  as 
possessed  of  those  faculties  which  have  made  him  eminent. 
Nor  did  he  and  his  associates  confine  themselves  to  politics ; 
for  there  is  in  existence  a  small  volume  of  poetry,  which 
they  published  conjointly,  and  to  which  Mr.  Punshon  con¬ 
tributed  a  piece  entitled  “  The  Orphan,”  of  considerable, 
promise.  About  the  same  time  he  received,  under  the 
ministry  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Romilly  Hall,  those  impressions, 
which  resulted  in  his  religious  conversion.  He  then  became 
a  Sunday-school  teacher,  and  subsequently  a  local  preacher. 
He  began  to  preach  when  he  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  and 
exhibited  much  ability  in  the  pulpit.  His  first  attempt  was 
made  at  Ellerby,  near  Hull,  and  it  was  so  successful  as  to 
cause  the  sermon  to  five  in  the  memory  of  at  least  some 
who  heard  it,  for  they  talked  about  it  years  afterward, 
when  Mr.  Punshon  visited  the  place.  Under  such  circum¬ 
stances  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  his  vocation  was  not 
in  the  counting-house.  But  still  he  was  kept  in  the  com¬ 
mercial  circle,  for  from  his  relatives  in  Hull  he  was  sent  to 
an  uncle  at  Sunderland,  to  follow  up  the  pursuit  on  which 
he  had  entered. 

“  But  the  books  in  which  he  delighted  were  neither  ledger 
nor  day-books.  Ilis  refined  fancy  and  polished  taste  made 
him  an  ardent  admirer  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful  in  lite¬ 
rature,  and  at  the  same  time  his  religious  views  led  him  to 
employ  his  talents  more  than  ever  in  the  preaching  of  the 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


Gospel ;  and  as  certain  rivers  are  lost  in  morasses,  we  lose 
siorht  of  his  commercial  career  somewhere  anion 2:  the  coal- 
pits  and  iron- works  of  the  North. 

“During  these  events  he  had  been  bereaved  of  both  pa¬ 
rents  ;  and  his  grandfather,  at  length  convinced  that  secular 
business  was  not  his  vocation,  made  liberal  arrangements 
for  his  being  trained  for  the  ministry  in  the  Wesleyan  Insti¬ 
tution,  after  a  preliminary  course  of  instruction  at  the  house 
of  his  uncle,  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Clough,  at  Deptford. 

“  There,  hoAvever,  he  did  not  long  remain ;  it  being  found, 
probably  either  that  his  genius  was  ill-suited  to  the  res¬ 
traints  of  an  academical  course,  or  that  by  self-culture,  and 
the  help  of  his  ministerial  relative,  he  had  attained  a  profi¬ 
ciency  which,  with  talents  such  as  his,  superseded  a  more 
formal  training.  In  the  spring  of  1845  a  secession  of  the 
parishioners  from  the  Episcopal  Church  at  Morden,  Kent, 
formed  the  nucleus  of  a  Wesleyan  church  in  that  town,  and 
Mr.  Punshon  was  invited  to  accept  the  pastoral  charge  of 
the  seceders.  He  complied  with  the  request,  and  under  his 
ministry  their  numbers  so  greatly  increased  that  a  commo¬ 
dious  chapel  was  erected,  and  always  well  filled.  It  was 
only  for  a  short  time,  however,  that  he  remained  in  this 
place,  for  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  the  Conference, 
under  whose  jurisdiction  the  Morden  church  seems  to  have 
come,  sent  him  to  Whitehaven,  where  he  resided  two  years, 
and  attracted  large  congregations.  From  thence,  in  1847, 
he  was  removed  to  the  city  of  Carlisle,  and  two  years  after¬ 
ward  to  N ewcastle-on-Tyne.  In  both  of  these  great  centres 
of  population  Mr.  Punshon  at  once  acquired  a  worthy  name, 
and  became  a  mighty  power  for  good,  as  well  as  at  Sunder¬ 
land,  Gateshead,  Shields,  and  the  other  towns  of  the  dis¬ 
trict,  where  he  never  had  to  preach  or  lecture  to  empty,  or 
only  partially  occupied  pews  and  benches.  While  stationed 
at  Newcastle,  being  then  in  his  twenty-fifth  year,  he  mar¬ 
ried  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Vicars'  of  Gateshead,  a  very  esti¬ 
mable  and  highly  accomplished  lady,  whose  premature  death 


INTRODUCTION. 


XVII 


in  1858  threw  the  darkest  shadow  across  Mr.  Punshon’s 
path,  just  when  he  had  been  appointed  to  a  Metropolitan 
circuit,  where  enlarged  usefulness  and  new  honors  awaited 
the  gifted  and  ardent  ambassador  of  Christ ;  when  most 
unwelcome,  the  King  of  Terrors  came  and  took  the  angel 
of  the  pastor’s  home  away  to  her  sister  spirits  in  glory. 

“From  Newcastle  Mr.  Punshon  was  removed  in  1851  to 
Sheffield,  and  thence  to  Leeds  in  1855.  It  was  while  he  was 
at  Sheffield  that  the  fame  of  the  preacher  became  noised 
abroad ;  and  his  services  were  soon  in  very  frequent  request 
for  special  sermons,  and  also  for  lectures.  It  was,  we  be¬ 
lieve,  in  the  character  of  a  lecturer  that  he  appeared  for  the 
first  time  in  London,  some  six  or  seven  years  ago.  We  well 
recollect  the  circumstance  of  his  standing  upon  the  platform 
of  Exeter  Hall  to  discourse  to  the  members  of  the  Young 
Men’s  Christian  Association  on  the  Prophet  of  Horeb.  It 
was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  lecture ;  but  an  oration  of  ex¬ 
treme  brilliancy,  suited  in  a  high  degree  to  captivate  the 
minds  and  find  its  way  to  the  affections  of  a  youthful  audi¬ 
ence  ;  and  we  never  remember  to  have  heard  such  rapturous 
applause  as  that  with  which  the  thousands  there  assembled 
greeted  each  glowing  period.  The  whole  of  the  oration 
was  delivered  memoriter ,  and  with  extraordinary  fluency  ; 
and  such  was  the  literal  fidelity  with  which  the  speaker 
had  followed  the  manuscript,  which  was  either  in  his  pocket, 
or  at  home,  that  Avhen  it  shortly  afterward  appeared  in 
print,  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  the  most  retentive 
memory  of  the  closest  listener  to  have  pointed  out  a  sen¬ 
tence  that  the  lecturer  had  not  uttered.  By  this  single 
performance  Mr.  Punshon  established  a  Metropolitan  repu¬ 
tation  outside  his  own  denomination,  which  was  increased 
some  two  or  three  years  afterward  by  his  second  lecture  in 
Exeter  Hall,  before  the  same  Association,  on  the  Immortal 
Dreamer,  John  Bunyan;  and,  more  recently  still,  by  that 
most  masterly  oration  on  the  Huguenot,  which  tens  of  thou¬ 
sands  in  almost  all  parts  of  England  have  listened  to  Avith 


XV111 


INTRODUCTION. 


unbounded  delight.  With  one  or  two  exceptions,  perhaps, 
there  is  no  living  minister  in  this  country  possessed  of  so 
much  popular/  power  as  Mr.  Punshon.  It  is  something 
wonderful  and  grand  to  witness  the  spell  of  his  genius  upon 
miscellaneous  audiences  of  from  three  to  five  thousand  peo¬ 
ple  in  St.  James’  Hall,  Exeter  Hall,  or  the  provincial 
theatre,  who  have  paid  from  a  shilling  to  a  half  crown  each 
for  admission.  Most  people  will  probably  prefer  Mr.  Pun¬ 
shon  in  character  of  a  lecturer  rather  than  that  of  a  preacher. 
In  the  pulpit  beds  unquestionably  a  master,  and  only  second 
to  a  very  few  preachers  of  the  age  ;  but  the  platform  fur¬ 
nishes  a  better  sphere  for  the  display  of  his  varied  abilities. 
In  neither  capacity  does  he  give  the  people  that  which  has 
cost  him  nothing ;  for  so  accurate,  and  elaborate  is  almost 
every  sentence,  and  so  appropriate  and  polished  every  illus¬ 
trative  simile,  that  it  may  be  confidently  said  he  writes  out 
and  commits  to  memory  every  sermon  and  lecture  that  he 
delivers.  Whatever  he  undertakes  he  does  well.  Whether 
it  is  in  the  preaching  of  an  ordinary  sermon  in  a  Methodist 
chapel,  or  in  the  delivery  of  an  ostensibly  popular  discourse 
in  some  great  public  building,  or  as  taking  part  in  the  meet¬ 
ing  of  some  benevolent  or  religious  association,  or  as  a  lec¬ 
turer,  occupying  the  rostrum  before  thousands  of  delighted 
hearers,  he  is  always  earnest,  always  energetic,  always 
effective. 

“  In  a  two  hours’  discourse  upon  such  a  theme  as  that  of 
the  history  of  France  throughout  the  whole  period  of  the 
Huguenot  persecutions,  ordinary  and  even  very  superior  lec¬ 
turers  would  have  considered  a  manuscript  indispensable. 
But,  not  so  Mr.  Punshon.  A  few  notes  on  some  small  cards 
held  in  the  hand  were  all  the  prompting  he  required,  when 
we  heard  him  go  through  his  magnificent  address.  He  told 
that  old  story  of  persecution  with  an  inspiring  eloquence 
that  made  men  hold  their  breath  while  they  listened,  or 
burst  forth  into  a  tempest  of  applause.  Vigorous,  inven¬ 
tive,  and  impassioned,  he  adapted  himself  to  the  versatile 


INTRODUCTION. 


XIX 


tastes  of  his  auditory,  not  by  any  apparent  effort,  but  by 
simplicity,  and  strength,  by  speaking  right  out  the 
thoughts  that  were  in  him.  He  roused  every  passion, 
touched  every  emotion,  and  awakened  every  sympathy  in 
the  hearts  of  his  hearers.” 

With  God’s  blessing  Mr.  Punshon  has  yet,  according  to 
the  English  standard,  full  thirty  of  his  best  years  before  him. 
May  he  have  length  of  days  and  fullness  of  power,  so  that 
he  shall  continue  to  grow  in  favor  with  God  and  man,  is 
the  hearty  Avish  of  his  friend, 

W.  H.  Milburn. 

Brooklyn,  May  15 th,  1860. 


/ 


■ 

. 

•-* 


, 


' ' 


PRELIMINARY  PLEA. 


TABOR  3  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

If  any  of  yon,  dear  friends,  had  been  privileged  to 
witness  the  scenes  which  once  hallowed  the  summit  of 
Tabor — if  you  had  seen  the  Saviour  baptized  as  the 
King  of  Glory — if  you  had  “  feared  as  you  entered 
into  the  cloud  ” — if  you  had  been  a  favored  listener  to 
that  heavenly  converse — if  you  had  been  thrilled,  as 
Peter  was,  by  the  upliftings  of  wondrous  hope  and  un¬ 
foldings  of  gracious  purpose,  as  “  they  spake  of  his  de¬ 
cease  which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem  ” — who 
of  you  could  have  withheld  the  deep-felt  expression  of 
gladness,  “  Lord,  it  is  good  to  be  here !” — who  of  you 
could  have  restrained  the  desire  to  build,  upon  that 
sacred  spot,  the  “  tabernacles”  of  remembrance  and  of 
rest  ? 

Dear  friends,  there  is  yet  an  institution  in  whose  ob¬ 
servance  the  humblest  Christian  talks  with  his  Master, 
and  with  his  Master’s  followers — that  institution  is  the 
<£  assembling  of  ourselves  together”  for  the  purposes  of 

church  communion — there  is  yet  a  place  upon  earth 

21 


22  TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

where  some  relics  of  that  excellent  glory  linger,  where 
the  experiences  of  that  mount  of  blessing  are  not  all 
forgotten — that  place  is  a  pious  and  properly  conducted 
Class-Meeting.  Many  a  time  has  the  writer  of  this 
brief  address  felt  its  salutary  influence,  to  gladden  the 
soul  in  seasons  of  intensest  trial,  to  encourage  the  fail¬ 
ing  spirit  in  heavenward  progress,  to  brace  and  nerve 
the  mind  for  difficult  duty ;  and,  with  a  grateful  recol¬ 
lection  of  these,  its  Tabor-pleasures,  he  commends  its 
advantages  to  you.  “I  believed,  therefore  have  I 
spoken.” 

"We  do  not  claim  for  the  Class-Meeting  an  essentially 
divine  origin,  although  it  would  be  difficult  to  doubt 
that  an  overruling  Providence  presided  at  its  birth, 
and  has  kept  it  in  operation  until  now.  The  mind, 
which  devoutly  remembers  that  with  God  there  is 
nothing  trivial,  will  readily  acknowledge  that  when 
John  Wesley,  ministering  merely  to  present  necessities, 
and  with  no  foresight  of  the  future,  called  together  at 
their  own  request  “  eight  or  ten  persons  in  London” — 
there  were  in  heaven  an  eye  that  marked  and  a  love 
that  blessed  the  deed. 

“  A  thing  is  great  or  little  only  to  a  mortal’s  thinking, 

It  is  but  the  littleness  of  man  that  seeth  no  greatness  in  a  trifle.” 

Mark  the  tenor  of  the  language  which  tells  of  the  rise 
of  the  “  United  Societies,”  which,  founded  upon  scrip¬ 
tural  principles,  have  now  expanded  into  a  flourishing 
church  : 


tabor;  or,  the  class-meeting.  23 

“In  tlie  latter  end  of  the  year  1139,  eight  or  ten  per¬ 
sons  came  to  me  in  London,  -who  appeared  to  he  deeply 
convinced  of  sin,  and  earnestly  groaning  for  redemption. 
They  desired  (as  did  two  or  three  more  the  next  day) 
that  I  would  spend  some  time  with  them  in  prayer,  and 
advise  them  how  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  which 
they  saw  continually  hanging  over  their  heads.  That 
we  might  have  more  time  for  this  great  work,  I  ap¬ 
pointed  a  day  when  they  might  all  come  together; 
which  from  henceforward  they  did  every  week,  viz., 
on  Thursday,  in  the  evening.  To  these,  and  as  many 
more  as  desired  to  join  with  them  (for  their  number 
increased  daily),  I  gave  those  advices  from  time  to 
time  which  I  judged  most  needful  for  them ;  and  we 
also  concluded  our  meetings  with  prayer  suited  to  their 
several  necessities.” 

TIow  forcibly  does  this  remind  us  of  the  days  of 
Malachi,  wdien  “  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often 
one  to  another ,  and  the  Lord  hearkened  and  heard — 
and  a  Book  of  remembrance” — the  Lord’s  class  look — 
“  was  written  before  him  for  them  that  feared  the  Lord, 
and  that  thought  upon  his  name  !”  How  vividly  does 
it  recall  that  union  in  prayer  which  gives  it  such  a 
princely  power  !  “  If  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  earth 

as  touching  anything  that  they  shall  ask,  it  shall  be 
done  for  them  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.” 
How  does  it  bring  before  us  the  exhortations  scattered 
through  the  whole  compass  of  apostolic  writing ! 


24  TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

“Bear  ye  one  another’s  burdens,  and  so  fulfill  the  law 
of  Christ;” — and  especially  how  accordant  is  it  with 
the  confession  of  our  faults  one  to  another  (not  auricu¬ 
lar  confession  to  a  priest' — that  we  abhor),  which  St. 
Janies  enjoins.  (Jas.  v.  16.)  If  we  have  not  direct 
Scripture  command,  we  have  Scripture  permission,  ap¬ 
proval,  and  usage  ;  and,  while  we  are  content  that  a 
Class-Meeting  should  be  considered  as  prudential  rather 
than  authoritative,  we  hold  to  the  persuasion  that  it  has 
been  a  means  of  grace,  which,  perhaps  beyond  all 
others  of  a  supplemental  character,  has  been  signally 
honored  by  the  blessing  of  God. 

You,  as  hearers  of  our  ministry,  are  doubtless  aware 
that  membership  in  one  of  these  Class-Meetings  is  in¬ 
dispensable  to  constitute  union  with  Methodism,  and 
that  those  only,  who  statedly  attend  these  seasons  of 
Christian  fellowship,  are  “  accredited  and  rightful  com¬ 
municants  of  our  Church.”  Writing  as  Methodists, 
we  condemn  not  other  sections  of  the  church  universal. 
It  may  not  be  their  vocation.  They  certainly  do  not 
prize  it  as  their  privilege.  For  ourselves,  however,  for 
the  benefit  of  our  own  family,  we  are  free  to  confess 
an  ardent  attachment  in  this  matter  to  the  “  good  ways” 
of  our  fathers.  The  Class-Meeting  is  storied  of  old. 
It  is  associated  with  our  traditional  and  sacred  records 
of  the  master  spirits  of  early  Methodism — those  large- 
hearted  men  “  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy.” 
It  was  to  them  as  the  blest  Elim  of  palms  and  fount¬ 
ains  to  the  desert  wayfarer ;  ' and  such  is  the  sanctity 


25 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

of  affection  with  which  we  regard  it,  that  it  compels 
the  prayer,  not  with  hated  hreatli,  but  with  the  loud 
voice  of  earnest  entreaty ; — God  forbid  the  day  should 
ever  dawn  when  the  Class-Meeting  shall  cease  to  be  as 
an  organized  system  of  testimony,  the  badge  of  mem¬ 
bership  in  the  Methodist  branch  of  the  Church  of 
Christ. 

Let  us  be  guarded  here.  We  do  not  believe,  nor  do 
we  affirm,  that  connection  with  the  Class-Meeting  is 
necessarily  an  indication  of  piety,  nor  of  that  right 
state  of  heart  which  is  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God. 
There  may  be — there  probably  are — numbers  amongst 
us  of  whom  we  are  “in  doubt,”  and  over  whose  de¬ 
fective  consistency  we  mourn.  It  is  not  surprising, 
when  there  were  “  carnal  walkers”  in  the  Corinthian 
church,  and  even  a  Judas  amongst  the  twelve.  But 
where  is  there  an  equal  vigilance  to  prevent  the  re¬ 
cognition  of  improper  persons  as  members?  In  what 
church  in  Christendom  are  there  manifested  greater 
fidelity  and  solemnity  in  matters  of  experience  and 
practice?  The  charge  of  encouraging  mixed  fellow¬ 
ship,  which  has  been  so  injuriously  cast  upon  our  minis¬ 
ters,  is  unwarranted  and  untrue.  That  our  only  re¬ 
quirement  is  u  a  desire  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,” 
is  certain.  But  what  does  this  mean  ?  How  is  it  ma¬ 
nifested?  It  is  not  the  careless  confession,  in  which 
there  is  no  heart — nor  the  emotion  of  the  man,  who 
repents  to-night  and  sins  again  to-morrow — nor  yet 
the  mere  feeling  of  remorse,  the  Judas-like  penitence, 

2 


26 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


which’  “  worketh  death.”  There  must  be  “  repentance 
toward  God” — the  deep  and  abiding  penitence — the 
strong  conviction  of  personal  guilt  and  danger — the 
“  broken  heart,”  which  is  God’s  chosen  sacrifice — the 
godly  sorrow,  which  chastens  the  entire  character — 
the  whole  of  the  emotions  comprehended  in  the  ex¬ 
pressive  word — contrition.  Rone,  in  the  judgment  of 
our  church — as  embodied  in  her  inimitable  Rules — 
sincerely  feel  this  desire  but  they  who  bring  forth  its 
“  fruits  meet  for  repentance” — the  crushing  sense  of 
ingratitude — the  careful  avoidance  of  evil — the  earnest 
inquiry  after  good — the  submissive  search  for  truth — 
and  the  restless  anxiety  which  refuses  to  be  satisfied 
without  the  experience  of  its  power.  Rone  but  these, 
therefore,  are  interested  in  this  address.  Do  not  mis¬ 
take  u^.  We  invite  you  on  the  assumption — and  that 
assumption  is  indispensable — and  that  assumption  is 
all  that  is  indispensable — that  you  are  thus  desirous  to 
“flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.”  We  are  jealous  of 
accessions  that  may  pollute  its  purity.  The  careless, 
and  the  profane,  and  the  trifling,  and  the  selfish — 
alas !  that  we  have  such  hearers ! — our  invitation 
passes  by.  Dearly  as  we  wish  their  welfare,  we  dare 
not  invite  them,  in  their  present  state,  amongst  us. 
“  They  have  no  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter.”  But  we 
believe  there  are  thousands  of  our  hearers  in  different 
parts  of  the  land,  whose  hearts  God  hath  touched — 
who  are  hopeful  and  promising  as  to  religious 
impression,  and  who  manifest  a  ceaseless  concern 


TABOE  ;  OE,  THE  CLASS-MEETING.  27 

for  their  souls ;  and  it  is  to  them  we  make  our 
appeal. 

Dear  friends,  those  of  you  that  are  in  such  a  case, 
to  this  membership  we  invite  you.  We  have  watched 
for  you  with  eager  solicitude.  We  have  yearned  over 
you  with  a  pastor’s  yearning.  Upon  your  spiritual 
state  we  have  expended  many  an  anxious  thought,  for 
your  spiritual  welfare  we  have  breathed  many  a  fer¬ 
vent  prayer.  We  rejoice  to  see  you  in  the  sanctuary, 
but  we  would  have  you  glad  us  with  your  presence  at 
our  family  festivals.  We  see  you  standing  at  the 
threshold — we  wish  you  to  cluster  round  the  hearth¬ 
stone  and  to  be  warmed  at  the  lire.  Perhaps  you  have 
not  adequately  considered  the  advantages  of  this  in¬ 
valuable  fellowship.  Will  you  lend  us  your  attention 
for  awhile  to  a  brief  enumeration  ? 

I.  The  Class-Meeting  induces  Self-examination. — 
Thoughtlessness  is  the  great  sin  and  inveterate  habit  of 
the  world.  The  natural  man  presents  the  “  remarkable 
spectacle  of  a  soul  afraid  of  itself,  afraid  to  stay  with 
itself,  alone,  still  and  attentive.”  He  may,  perhaps, 
have  parleyed  sometimes  with  his  immortal  spirit,  after 
the  manner  of  some  lordly  nobleman  speaking  to  an  old 
servant  of  his  house  :  “  Soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid 
up  for  many  years,  take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be 
merry or,  haply  some  adventurous  one  set  out  with 
the  fixed  intention  of  visiting  his  heart’s  secret  cham¬ 
bers,  but  his  feelings  were  like  those  of  one  who  entered 
a  gloomy  and  long-deserted  mansion.  To  his  disor- 


28 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


dered  imagination  strange  tremors  shook  the  arras, 
unearthly  echoes  sounded  from  the  stair,  apparitions 
met  the  straining  eye-hall  upon  every  landing — 

“  For  over  all  there  hung  a  cloud  of  fear, 

A  sense  of  mystery  the  spirit  daunted, 

And  said,  as  plain  as  whisper  in  the  ear, 

The  place  is  haunted  !” 

and  he  retired  afiriglited,  with  the  big,  cold  drops  upon 
his  brow,  and  it  must  be  a  powerful  motive  that  will 
tempt  him  into  those  chambers  again.  Nay,  the  Lord’s 
accusation  against  his  ancient  people  is  chargeable  to  a 
great  extent  upon  his  people  now,  “  My  people  do  not 
consider.”  IIow  apt  is  the  Christian,  the  heir  of  a 
nobler  life,  the  professor  of  a  living  faith,  to  neglect 
the  examination  of  himself!  The  countless  activities 
of  this  utilitarian  age  have  been  all  temptations,  to 
which  his  busy  spirit  has  been  but  too  prone  to  yield. 
The  engrossing  influence  of  business,  the  onward  march 
of  intellect,  the  absorbing  strife  of  politics,  even  the 
enterprises  of  religious  philanthropy,  have  all,  in  turn, 
contributed  most  sadly  to  hinder  the  practice  of  self- 
communion.  The  active  has  banished  the  reflective ; 
and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  there  are  professors  of  reli¬ 
gion,  who  strangely  reckon  all  the  moments  spent  upon 
themselves  as  so  much  wasted  time. 

Wordsworth  has  entered  his  indignant  protest  against 
the  intrusion  of  a  railway  to  disturb  the  serenities  of 
Grasmere  and  Tty  dal.  Oh,  for  some  spiritual  laureate 


TAB0E  ;  OE,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


29 


— some  sweet  singer  in  Israel,  to  decry  the  multi¬ 
plied  excitements  which,  tramp  and  rattle  through  the 
offended  mind !  My  friends,  the  Class-Meeting  will 
“  lead  you  beside  these  still  waters.”  dSTo  right-minded 
and  devotional  spirit  dares  enter  it  without  some  kind 
of  self  inquiry — some  examination  of  himself— “  whe¬ 
ther  he  be  in  the  faith.”  During  the  week,  it  may  be, 
when  the  strife  of  competition  waxed  fierce,  and  the 
race  of  human  pursuits  was  going  vigorously  on,  your 
thoughts  were  hurried  into  the  midst  of  them,  until 
they  were  bewildered  even  to  exhaustion  ;  but  now  the 
Class-Meeting  is  at  hand,  and  the  mind  retires  into  its 
sanctuary,  and  communes  with  itself  and  its  God.  It 
is  like  the  court-day  of  the  soul,  when  the  steward  con¬ 
science  takes  cognizance  of  all  the  tenants,  and  brings 
them  respectively  beneath  their  Master’s  eye.  IIow 
searching  that  inquiry !  IIow  hallowed  that  commu¬ 
nion  !  “  Another  week  of  my  probation  has  fled. 

What  record  has  it  borne?  What  blessings  has  it  scat¬ 
tered  from  its  wings  ?  What  deliverances  have  I  expe¬ 
rienced  ?  What  battles  have  I  won  ?  What  have 
been  my  omissions,  heart-wanderings,  sins  ?  Am  I 
holier,  more  spiritually-minded  ?  Have  I  a  nobler 
scorn  of  the  world  ?  a  more  earnest  avarice  for  heaven  ? 
The  heart  must  be  the  better  for  inquiries  like  these, 
made  searchingly,  and  in  the  spirit  of  prayer.  Then, 
perhaps,  heavenly  thoughts  will  troop  upon  us,  like  the 
descending  visitants  of  Jacob’s  dream — and  it  may  be — 
who  knows  ?  that  we  may  ‘  entertain  angels  unawares 


30 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

or,  better  still,  some  kind-looking  stranger  may  join  11s 
on  our  Emmaus-travel,  and  make  ‘  our  hearts  burn 
within  us  as  he  talketh  with  ns  by  the  way.’  ”  These 
are  no  trifling  blessings,  and  these  the  Class-Meeting 
indirectly  procures,  because  it,  in  some  sort,  compels 
self-communion,  and  thus  induces  a  habit  which  may 
be  as  powerful  for  good  as  former  habits  were  powerful 
for  evil. 

II.  The  Glass-Meeting  produces  Gratitude. — Love — 
the  love  of  gratitude — is  the  essence  of  religion — the 
first  feeling  of  the  regenerate  soul.  It  springs  electric 
in  the  mind  of  the  believer  at  his  first  sight  of  Jesus. 
Authority  cannot  command  it.  Terror  cannot  frighten 
it  into  existence.  All  the  thousand-fold  appliances  of 
worldly  wisdom  cannot  create  it.  There  must  be  per¬ 
ception  of  love  in  God — a  sense  of  his  good-will — a 
view  of  the  crucified  as  well  as  of  the  cross  before  it  be 
enkindled.  “TVe  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us.” 
This  feeling  of  gratitude  is  too  deeply  grateful  for 
description.  Language  is  but  a  mockery.  Illustration 
fails.  It  is  beyond  a  figure,  and  without  a  parallel. 
Who  sees  not  the  danger  that  an  emotion  like  this,  if 
hidden  in  the  breast,  should  spend  itself  by  its  own 
continuity  ?  Gratitude  is  not  like  the  mountain  ava¬ 
lanche,  Avliich  gains  intensity  from  repression — it  is 
rather  like  the  fire,  which  imprisonment  extinguishes — 
or  air,  which,  pure  and  free,  is  the  refreshing  breath  of 
heaven;  but,  fouled  by  confinement,  is  the  blast  of 
pestilence  and  death.  Contemplation  upon  God’s 


TABOR  ;  OR,  TUB  CLASS-MEETING. 


31 


boundless  love  tends  naturally  to  expression.  “  While 
I  was  musing  the  fire  burned,  then  spake  I  with  my 
tongue.”  Now,  the  Class-Meeting  furnishes  the  most 
appropriate  occasion  for  this  expression  of  praise.  It  is 
large  enough  to  redeem  from  privacy,  and  not  large 
enough  to  exclude  the  notion  of  a  family,  and  it  would 
be  difficult  to  find  a  more  legitimate  sphere,  in  which 
the  full  heart  may  utter  its  thanks,  unfold  its  hopes, 
and  breathe  its  prayers.  Nay,  can  there  be  gratitude 
without  this  thankful  acknowledgment?  Is  there  not 
enough  in  the  dealings  of  your  heavenly  Father  to 
compel  it  ?  The  grace  which  loved  you  from  the  begin¬ 
ning — the  visitations  of  mercy  which  have  lighted  your 
path — the  beams  of  promise  that  have  shone  upon 
your  head — the  kind  heart  that  has  borne  with  your 
wTanderings — the  beckoning  hand  which  restored  you 
when  you  went  astray — are  they  not  constraining  you  ? 
If  we  were  permitted  to  anticipate  the  objection  which 
the  rebel  heart  sometimes  whispers :  “  I  cannot  speak,” 
might  we  not  say — Ah !  friends,  get  the  love  of  God 
shed  abroad  within  you,  and  it  will  fill  your  mouth  with 
arguments.  Wondrous  is  the  power  of  this  surpass¬ 
ingly  mighty  theme.  It  makes  the  lips  of  the  stam¬ 
merer  eloquent,  and  the  heart  of  the  diffident  bold. 
Under  its  inspiring  influence,  knowledge  kindles  on  the 
countenance — praise  flows  from  the  tongue — and  the 
most  timid  and  retiring  are  transported  into  the  invita¬ 
tion  of  the  Psalmist,  “  Come  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and 
I  will  declare  what  he  hath  done  for  my  soul.” 


82  TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

III.  The  Class-Meeting  recognizes  brotherhood. — It  is 
a  mighty  truth  which  God  has  written  upon  the  uni¬ 
verse,  and  stamped  enduringly  upon  the  great  heart  of 
humanity,  that  “  dSTo  man  liveth  to  himself.”  The 
world  is  a  vast  mass  of  dependencies.  The  feeblest 
woman  or  the  humblest  peasant  exerts  an  influence 
which  must  be  felt  in  the  great  brotherhood  of  man¬ 
kind.  It  is  a  precious  appointment  of  Providence,  that 
it  lias,  in  some  sense,  made  our  very  selfishness  benevo¬ 
lent — that  it  has  bound  us,  at  the  peril  of  losing  our  own 
enjoyments,  to  care  for  the  necessities  of  others — and 
that  it  has  extracted  the  most  satisfying  elements  of 
public  happiness  from  the  joys  and  perils  of  individual 
lot.  The  heart,  by  a  law  of  its  constitution,  must  have 
something  to  which  it  can  attach  itself.  Its  emblems 
are  the  summer-tendril  and  the  clasping  ivy.  It  was 
never  formed  for  the  hermitage  or  the  monastery — and 
you  must  do  violence  to  all  its  excellent  charities, 
before  it  will  entirely  denude  itself  of  all  objects  of 
solicitude  and  love.  The  Class-Meeting  here  comes  in 
to  supply  a  great  want  of  nature.  It  concentrates  the 
feeling  of  brotherhood — prevents  it  from  being  frit¬ 
tered  away  in  vague  and  sentimental  generalities — and 
gives  it  a  definite  object  and  aim.  If  the  church  is  the 
temple,  the  Class-Meeting  is  an  inner  and  sacred  inclo¬ 
sure.  If  the  church  is  the  populous  city,  the  Class- 
Meeting  is  the  united  family,  where  love  is  throned  in 
the  heart  and  confidence  nestles  in  the  roof-tree.  Every 
faithful  leader  will  impress  upon  his  flock,  and  every 


TABOR  ;  OR,  TIIE  CLASS-MEETING.  33 

devoted  member  will  take  care  to  feel,  that,  while  the 
church  at  large  claims  his  philanthropic  sympathy  and 
effort,  to  his  own  fellow-members  he  is  to  cherish  the 
closer  and  deeper  feelings  of  home.  Here  especially 
there  are  no  orphans.  “  Whether  one  member  suffer, 
all  the  members  suffer  with  it ;  or  one  member  be 
honored,  all  the  members  rejoice  with  it.”  They  are 
joined  as  in  a  commonwealth.  “They  love  as  bre¬ 
thren.”  Why  join  you  not  this  heavenly  communion? 
Are  you  not,  like  the  prodigal,  in  a  far  country,  and, 
perhaps,  if  your  pride  would  but  confess  it,  inwardly 
pining  for  the  “  bread  enough  and  to  spare  ”  of  your 
Father’s  house  at  home  ?  Have  you  sufficiently  consi¬ 
dered  that  in  your  present  state,  regarding  you  as 
travellers  to  another  world,  you  are  isolated,  and — for¬ 
give  the  word — selfish — exhibiting  a  practical  denial  of 
all  brotherly  relationship,  by  remaining  to  wrestle  with 
your  enemies,  and  gain  your  heaven  alone  ? 

IY.  The  Class-Meeting  elicits  Sympathy. — Good  sense 
and  rich  exprerience  are  the  fruits  of  intercourse.  Ho 
man  ever  yet  became  either  wise  or  holy  by  exclusively 
“  communing  with  his  own  heart  upon  his  bed.”  We 
have  heard  much  lately  on  the  tendency  of  seclusion 
to  cherish  the  spirit  of  piety,  and  there  are  not  wanting 
those  who  would  revive  in  all  their  severity  the  monas- 
ticisms  of  past  ages.  Mistaken  men !  The  sweet 
flowerets  of  Divine  grace  can  rarely  be  acclimated  to 
the  damp  soil  of  the  convent ;  they  are  not  like  the 
sensitive  mimosa,  which  shrinks  even  from  the  gentlest 


34 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


handling,  but  rather,  like  the  delicate  heart’s-ease, 
grateful  for  gracious  dew-falls,  and  breathing  zephyrs, 
and  the  blessed  sun,  and  yet  courting  the  culture  and 
the  companionship  of  man.  Christianity  is  not  an  ima¬ 
ginative  revelry  upon  great  truths — it  is  an  earnest 
endeavor  to  exemplify  them.  It  is  not  contemplative 
pietism,  it  is  unceasing  labor.  It  is  not  an  alien  princi¬ 
ple,  which  has  no  sympathy  with  our  nature,-  and  is 
content  with  its  distant  and  constrained  submission — it 
is  an  all-pervasive  element,  shrined  in  the  heart,  and 
influencing  benignly  the  whole  of  the  character. 
“  Knox,”  says  Dr.  Chalmers,  “  did  not  destroy  the  old 
Romish  pulpits  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation ;  he  did 
better:  he  preached  in  them.”  Christianity  does  not 
annihilate  a  single  passion — does  not  extinguish  a  single 
affection  of  our  nature.  It  does  better.  It  employs  the 
former  for  its  own  noble  purposes,  and  it  fixes  the  latter 
where  they  may  attach  themselves,  without  fear  of 
idolatry,  even  upon  “  things  above.”  The  passions  of 
the  Christian,  therefore,  are  as  strong — the  affections  of 
the  Christian  are  as  warm — as  those  of  any  man.  The 
charities  of  life,  and  of  love,  and  of  home,  flourish  as 
endearingly  in  the  mind  of  the  Christian  as  anywhere, 
and  he  has  that  intense  yearning  for  sympathy  which 
characterizes  universal  man.  Here  again,  the  Class- 
Meeting  supplies  a  great  want  of  nature.  It  is  composed 
a  band  of  wayfarers,  met  for  the  express  purpose  of 
sympathizing  with  each  other  in  the  struggles  and  perils 
of  their  common  journey.  IIow  often  has  it  opened  up 


I 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


35 


a  weekly  heaven,  amid  the  dull  and  clouded  atmosphere 
of  sinfulness  and  time !  One  is  sorely  tempted.  The 
temptation  presses  hard  upon  his  spirit,  with  such 
mighty  fascinations  is  it  clad — in  such  newer  blasphemy 
does  it  prompt  him  to  indulge,  that  he  thinks  surely 
this  is  a  “  temptation  that  is  not  common  to  men.”  But 
at  the  Class  that  week,  a  fellow-traveller  relates  the 
hitter  experience  of  the  same  suggestions,  and  the  blest 
experience  of  deliverance  from  tlieir  power ;  and  a  new 
song  is  put  into  his  mouth,  and  he  goes  on  his  Avay  re¬ 
joicing.  Another  is  bowed  down  beneath  the  influence 
of  a  temptation  adjusted  with  such  nicety  to  his  peculiar 
besetment  as  to  be  almost  irresistible  in  its  appeals,  but 
the  weekly  season  of  fellowship  has  come,  and  the 
words  of  the  faithful  leader  “  are  words  in  season,”  and 
One  mightier  than  the  leader  is  there,  and  a  glance  at 
his  pure  countenance — a  touch  of  his  invigorating  hand 
— and  he  is  nerved  for  the  conflict,  and  spurns  the 
assaulter  away.  Another  has  been  stricken  with  a 
spiritual  paralysis — a  wearisome  torpor  has  seized  him, 
a  strange  indifference  has  come  upon  his  soul — and,  as 
in  the  Class-Meeting,  he  tells  his  tale  of  half-heartedness 
and  sin,  amid  the  counsels  of  the  faithful  and  the 
prayers  of  the  pious,  the  glorious  presence  of  the 
Saviour  bursts  in  light  upon  the  chained  one,  and  in  all 
the  strength  and  nobility  of  spiritual  life,  he  “walks” 
afresh  “  with  God.” 

And  who  can  tell  the  beneficial  influence  to  the  Zion¬ 
ward  journeyer,  when  persons  of  all  ranks,  character, 


36 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


and  ages,  unite  to  testify  that  “  the  same  Lord  over  all 
is  rich  in  mercy  nnto  all  them  that  call  upon  him  V 
Perhaps  there  is  an  aged  pilgrim  who  for  years  has 
walked  and  fainted  not.  Many  a  hill  of  difficulty  has 
he  climbed,  many  a  valley  of  humiliation  has  he  trod¬ 
den — he  has  tales  to  tell  of  wary  walkings  on  enchanted 
ground — of  hair-breadth  escape  out  of  the  net  of  the 
Flatterer — aye,  and  of  ravishing  prospects  for  the 
Delectable  mountains  and  from  the  elevations  of 
Pisgah;  and,  while  his  eye  brightens  and  his  voice 
falters,  he  tells  also  that  he  has  never  repented  his 
setting  forth  on  pilgrimage,  and  that  the  pleasures  are 
sweeter,  and  the  toils  less  irksome,  than  when,  in  youth, 
he  grasped  the  palmer-staff  and  strapped  on  the  sandals. 
Is  it  nothing  to  be  favored  with  the  testimony  of  such 
an  one,  and  to  sit  under  his  shadow  with  delight  ?  to 
have  our  rash  judgments  rebuked  by  his  experience, 
and  our  faith  confirmed  by  the  ardors  of  his  imperish¬ 
able  hope  ?  There  is  a  young  convert  there,  it  may  be, 
who  has  recently  realized  a  wonderful  change,  even, 
“  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan 
unto  God.”  lie  has  found  “peace  and  joy  in  believ¬ 
ing  and  the  new-found  gladness  that  is  within  him 
steeps  the  sky  in  brighter  blue,  and  decks  the  earth 
with  bonnier  green ;  and,  blushing  at  his  own  fervor,  lie 
pours  forth  in  the  Class-Meeting  his  ascriptions  of  praise. 
The  old  man  hears,  and  is  reminded  of  the  days  of  his 
first  love — it  is  like  a  snatch  of  the  music  that  used  to 
thrill  the  soul  of  yore,  and,  in  a  moment,  memory  has 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING.  37 

I 

painted  the  first  conviction — the  early  struggles — the 
doubt  that  harassed  his  young  mind — the  triumph 
with  which  he  hailed  its  departure — and,  above  all,  the 
eventful  moment  when  joy  broke  through  his  swimming 
eyes  as  he  believingly  said,  “ My  Father!”  Who  sees 
not  the  mutual  and  glorious  benefit  —  the  young 
instructed  by  the  experience  of  the  aged — the  aged 
charmed  and  quickened  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
young.  And  then  there  is  one  sympathy  on  this  head 
which  it  would  be  unpardonable  in  us  to  omit,  and  that 
is  the  sympathy  of  prayer.  Who  can  be  lonely  or 
despairing,  even  in  this  wilderness  world,  with  the  con¬ 
sciousness  that  there  are  hearts  praying  for  him? 
hearts  of  those  who  are  animated  by  similar  hopes,  and 
depressed  by  similar  fears,  and  who  are  bound  by  their 
membership  to  “  make  intercession  for  ”  the  household 
of  faith  “  according  to  the  will  of  God  ?”  My  friends, 
if  there  were  no  other  disadvantage  in  your  present 
anomalous  position  as  aloof  from  the  church  of  Christ, 
than  this — that  by  your  separation  you  deprive  yourself 
of  the  church’s  prayers — there  is  a  fearfulness  in  the 
thought  which  might  well  cause  you  to  reflect  and 
tremble.  Desolate  indeed  is  the  spirit — cursed  as  the 
dewless  hills  of  Gilboa — for  which  no  prayer  ascends, 
on  whose  behalf  no  knee  is  bowed  to  heaven.  Rich  in 
his  penury  is  poverty’s  poorest  child,  if  his  portion  is  the 
supplication  of  the  faithful !  Ilappy  the  lonely  watcher 
upon  the  gallant  vessel’s  deck,  if  over  the  waste  of 
waters  the  wife  of  his  bosom  prays  !  Rever  is  a  heart 


38 


TABOR  J  OR,  TI1E  CLASS-MEETING. 


orphaned,  or  divorced  utterly  from  hope  and  heaven,  if 
in  some  extremest  corner  there  rises  one  yearning 
spirit’s  prayer.  And  if  individual  prayer  can  do  so 
much,  what  must  he  the  effect  of  many  ?  My  friends, 
we  would  he  almost  content  to  rest  the  whole  matter 
here,  this  one  advantage  would  so  overwhelmingly  con¬ 
strain  your  decision.  Bold  indeed  must  you  be  in  self- 
confidence,  in  infatuation,  in  sin,  if  you  refuse  to  avail 
yourselves  of  the  sympathy  of  prayer.  Oh !  by  every 
motive  which  your  souls  will  acknowledge  as  having 
either  sacredness  or  power,  you  are  adjured,  against  the 
evil  day,  to  insure  for  yourselves  the  “  effectual  fervent 
prayer.” 

Y.  The  Class-Meeting  confesses  Discipleshijo. — Every 
believer  is  called  to  witness  for  God.  You  cannot  have 
forgotten  how  largely  our  Saviour  impressed  upon  his 
immediate  disciples  the  duty  of  “  not  being  ashamed 
of  him*,”  and  of  “  confessing  him  in  the  sight  of  men.” 
You  will  also  recollect  how  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles 
makes  confession  to  be  on  a  parallel  with  faith  in  that 
memorable  passage,  “  If  thou  shalt  confess  with  tliy 
mouth  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  believe  in  thine  heart  that 
God  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead,  thou  shalt  be  saved. 
For  with  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteousness, 
and  with  the  mouth  confession  is  made  unto  salvation.” 
Such  confession  cannot  be  adequately  made  either  by 
mere  verbal  acknowledgment  or  exemplary  obedience,  it 
can  only  be  made  by  a  solemn  dedication  “  to  God’s 
people  according  to  his  will.”  Your  solitary  “  witness” 


39 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

of  obedience,  or  of  faith,  is  lost  like  an  invisible  atom  in 
the  air,  it  is  the  union  of  each  particle,  in  itself  insig¬ 
nificant,  that  constitutes  the  “  clond  ”  of  witnesses 
which  the  world  can  see.  Ask  yourselves,  we  pray 
you,  whether  this  is  not  just  the  element  that  is  lacking 
in  your  religious  decision.  You  are  desirous  to  flee 
from  the  wrath  to  come — you  have  yielded  in  some 
measure  to  religious  influence — you  are  endeavoring  to 
“  square  your  useful  lives  below  by  reason  and  by 
grace  ” — you  have  even  felt  at  times  some  emotions  of 
religious  joy,  and  yet  you  are  not  permanently  happy. 
Why?  Because  you  have  been,  pardon  the  word, 
traitorous  to  the  grace  of  God,  in  that,  like  Hezekiah  of 
old,  you  have  not  u  rendered  again  according  to  the 
benefit  done  unto  you.”  Oh,  remember  how  seriously 
you  peril,  by  your  present  conduct,  the  interests  of  your 
souls  !  You  are  like  a  venturous  traveller,  who  plunges, 
unaided  and  alone,  into  the  tangled  thicket,  whose  every 
tree  may  covert  a  robber.  Yrou  are  like  a  ship  that  has 
voyaged  from  the  fleet,  and  forsaken  the  convoy,  and  if 
a  storm  should  arise,  where  are  the  friendly  hands  to 
launch  the  life-boat,  or  to  rescue  the  perishing?  You 
are  like  a  soldier,  who,  confiding  in  his  own  prowess, 
spurns  the  discipline  of  the  regiment,  and  passes  singly 
through  the  armies  of  the  aliens,  and  if  he  should  be 
surprised  and  stricken,  where  are  the  generous  comrades 
to  cover  his  retreat,  or  bear  him  from  the  field,  or 
“  bind  up  his  wounds,  pouring  in  oil  and  wine?”  Kay, 
friends,  for  we  can  hesitate  no  longer ;  we  must  deliver 


40  TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

our  soul — God  requires  tliis  public  dedication.  He 
must  not  only  liave  the  enlightened  approval  of  the 
head,  and  the  loyal  allegiance  of  the  heart,  but  the 
cordial  embrace  of  the  hand  /  and  wp  dare  not  refrain 
from  the  expression  of  an  opinion,  founded,  we  believe, 
upon  the  requirements  of  the  law  of  God,  that  so  long 
as  you  keep  aloof  from  his  people,  and  are  not  united 
with  some  branch  of  his  visible  church,  you  are  not 

SAFE - YOU  ARE  IN  DANGER. 

We  believe  in  the  present  state  of  the  antagonist 
armies  of  truth  and  error — Neutrality  is  Opposition. 
“  He  that  is  not  for  us  is  against  us,”  and  the  transition 
is  a  very  natural  one  to  the  belief  that  connection  with 
some  risible  branch  of  the  Church  of  Christ  is  necessary 
to  salvation.  We  neither  limit  nor  specify — God  forbid 
that  we  should  trammel  the  conscience  of  any  one — but 
as  right-hearted  Methodists,  Methodists  from  conviction 
and  preference,  we  should  be  guiltily  wrong  if  we  dared 
not  recommend  our  own. 

It  is  not  our  business,  it  is  not  our  wish  to  make 
proselytes.  We  would  not  descend  from  our  elevation, 
we  would  not  leave  our  vantage-ground  to  do  it.  “  We 
have  not  so  learned  Christ.”  With  other  churches  we 
have  no  quarrel.  We  regard  them — all  who  hold  the 
head — as  “  houses  of  the  Lord,”  and  heartily  do  we 
wish  them  God  speed.  “  Let  there  be  no  strife  between 
our  lierdmen  and  theirs.”  But  we  differ  somewhat  in 
our  notions  of  spiritual  agriculture,  and  haply  it  is  our 
vocation  to  reclaim  some  waste  lands  that  they  would 


41 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 

not  think  worth  the  tillage.  Yon  will  not  blame  ns, 
therefore,  if  while  we  do  not  disparage  their  communion, 
we  prefer  our  own.  Broad  principles  of  philanthropy, 
however  expansive,  never  root  out  the  love  of  home, 
lie  is  a  churl,  who  cannot  warm  himself  at  any  hearth 
hut  his  own ;  and  he  is  only  half  a  man,  who  is  not, 
after  all,  loudest  in  praise  of  his  own  ingle  nook,  and  of 
the  comfortable  blaze  that  mantles  from  his  own  tire. 
Upon  you  we  have  a  claim.  You  are  haunted  by  no 
scruples  as  to  the  validity  of  our  orders,  or  the  purity 
of  our  doctrines.  By  your  attendance  upon  our  minis¬ 
try,  you  have  accorded  us  your  free  and  generous  pre¬ 
ference.  “  If  we  are  not  apostles  unto  others,  yet 
doubtless  we  are  apostles  unto  you.”  Be  no  longer 
outer  court  worshippers.  Bind  yourselves  to  us  by  a 
tenderer  tie.  Come  into  our  church.  Approach  the 
inner  shrines  of  our  worship.  Attach  yourselves  to  our 
Class-Meetings,  and  you  will  find  them  to  be  as  the 
“  upper  room,”  renowned  for  the  rushing  wind  and  for 
the  cloven  tongues  of  flame. 

Now,  dear  friends,  what  is  your  decision  ?  Bring  all 
your  objections,  all  the  thousand  excuses  which  the 
unwilling  heart  coins ;  the  fear  of  man — the  inconsis¬ 
tency  of  professors — the  dread  of  ridicule — the  appre¬ 
hension  of  falling — the  repugnance  to  declare  God’s 
dealings  with  you;  weigh  them  in  the  balance  of  the 
sanctuary,  and  ask  yourselves,  I  entreat  you,  in  the 
name  of  God,  and  under  the  impression  of  his  eye, 
“  Shall  I  deem  these  apologies  sufficient  in  the  article 


42 


TABOR  ;  OR,  THE  CLASS-MEETING. 


of  death,  and  when  the  light  of  eternity  shall  flash  upon 
the  doings  of  time  ?” 

Dear  friends,  onr  task  is  done.  This  address  has  been 
written  in  many  weaknesses,  and  in  much  prayer. 
Read  it  in  a  similar  spirit,  and  ask  God  in  the  secrecy 
of  your  communion-closet,  to  teach  you  his  will. 
Change  is  the  great  law  of  the  present  state  of  being. 
The  autograph  of  decay  is  graven  upon  temple,  and 
tower,  and  time.  Our  friends  have  faded  and  fallen  in 
our  sight — “who  hath  not  lost  a  friend?”  Ourselves 
are  dying  creatures.  He  who  writes,  and  you  who 
read,  will  speedily  pass  to  the  judgment.  Already  the 
broad  shadow  of  eternity  looms  upon  us ;  under  that 
shadow  meditate  and  decide.  Everything  around  you 
seems  to  urge  a  recognition  of  the  vast  importance  of  the 
claim.  The  wiles  of  the  enemy — the  deceitfulnes,  never 
yet  fathomed,  of  the  human  heart— the  perils  of  the  yet 
untravelled  future — the  awfulness  of  wandering  onward, 
agonized  and  without  a  jrraying  friend — the  blessings 
of  Christian  communion — the  helpfulness  of  rich  and 
mellow  experience — the  absolute  requirement  of  God — 
all,  as  with  the  voice  of  many  waters,  swell  the  force¬ 
fulness  of  our  last  appeal,  which  we  now  fling  forth 
upon  your  souls,  and  may  heaven  clothe  it  with  power : 
“  Come  with  rs,  and  we  will  do  you  good,  for  the 
Lord  hath  spoken  good  concerning  Israel.” 


PUNSHON’S  SERMONS. 


I. 

MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 

“  And  thou  shalt  remember  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy  God  led 
thee  these  forty  years  in  the  wilderness,  to  humble  thee,  and  to  prove 
thee,  to  know  what  was  in  thine  heart,  whether  thou  wouldst  keep  his 
commandments,  or  no.” — Deut.  viii.  2. 

A  peculiak  solemnity  would  be  attached  to  these 
words  in  their  original  utterance,  especially  in  the  mind 
of  the  person  who  uttered  them,  for  they  were  spoken 
under  the  shadow  of  approaching  departure.  Last 
words  are  proverbially  impressive,  and  these  were 
among  the  last  -words  of  the  veteran  Moses  to  the  peo¬ 
ple  of  his  charge  and  love.  There  had  grown  in  his 
heart  a  strong  affection  for  the  children  of  Israel  during 
his  forty  years’  administration  of  their  affairs.  lie  had 
watched  over  them  with  fatherly  tenderness,  and  had 
guided  them  through  the  intricacies  of  the  desert,  to  the 
borders  of  the  promised  land.  Often  had  he  been 
wearied  by  their  murmurings,  often  had  he  been  pro¬ 
voked  by  their  unbelief.  lie  had  been  alternately  the 

43 


44 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


object  of  their  mistrust  and  of  their  confidence,  of  their 
jealousy  and  of  their  enthusiasm,  and  yet  their  very 
waywardness  only  seemed  the  more  warmly  to  endear 
them ;  and,  with  a  love  stronger  than  death,  he  loved 
them  unto  the  end.  Aware  that,  by  his  unadvised 
speaking  at  the  waters  of  Meribah,  he  had  barred  his 
own  entrance  into  Canaan,  and  animated  with  a  passion 
for  the  welfare  of  his  people,  intenser  as  the  time  of 
their  separation  drew  nearer,  he  gathered  them  upon  the 
plains  of  Moab,  and  in  solemn  and  weighty  words  re-1 
traced  the  path  they  had  trod,  warned  them  against 
their  besetting  dangers,  and  exhorted  them  to  fidelity  in 
Jehovah’s  service.  In  the  midst  of  this  advice,  the 
words  of  the  text  occur,  summoning  them,  so  to  speak, 
to  take  a  mental  pilgrimage  over  all  the  track  which 
they  had  travelled,  and  to  connect  it  with  beneficial 
uses  which  might  influence  their  future  lives.  Such  a 
review  of  the  past  is  always  wise  and  salutary  when  it 
is  conducted  in  a  becoming  and  prayerful  spirit,  and  to 
such  a  review  of  the  past,  therefore,  it  is  that  we  invite 
you  to-day.  "We  may  not  unprofitably  accompany  the 
children  of  Israel  in  their  review  of  the  way  which  they 
had  trod ;  we  may  learn  lessons  in  their  company  which 
may  effectually  benefit  ourselves.  In  order  that  we 
may  preserve  some  sort  of  system  in  our  contempla¬ 
tions,  we  will  notice,  in  the  first  instance,  the  remem¬ 
brance  of  the  way;  secondly,  the  purpose  of  God’s 
providence  in  the  journey  ;  and,  thirdly,  the  uses  of 
the  memory. 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


45 


I.  In  tlie  first  place,  the  remembrance  of  the  way. 
“  Thou  shalt  remember  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy 
God  hath  led  thee  these  forty  years  in  the  wilderness.” 
It  is  a  wonderful  faculty,  this  faculty  of  memory.  Its 
acts  seem  to  he  of  the  nature  of  miracles  wrought  con¬ 
tinually  for  the  conviction  of  unbelief.  We  cannot 
expound  its  philosophy,  nor  tell  its  dwelling-place,  nor 
name  the  subtle  chords  which  evoke  it  from  its  slum¬ 
bers.  A  snatch  of  music  in  the  street,  the  sight  of  a 
modest  flower  or  of  an  old  tree,  a  word  dropped  casu¬ 
ally  by  a  passer-by,  a  face  that  flits  by  us  in  the  hurry¬ 
ing  crowd,  have  summoned  the  gone  years  to  our  side, 
and  filled  us  in  a  moment  with  memories  of  divinest 
comfort  or  of  deepest  sorrow.  The  power  of  memory  is 
lasting  and  is  influential.  A  kindness  has  been  done  in 
secret ;  but  that  seed,  dropped  into  the  soil  of  memory, 
has  borne  fruitage  in  the  gratitude  of  years.  A  harsh 
word  or  an  inflicted  injury,  flung  upon  the  memory, 
has  rankled  there  into  lawlessness  and  into  sin.  USTo 
man  can  be  solitary  who  has  memory.  The  poorest  of 
us,  if  he  have  memory,  is  richer  than  he  knows,  for  by 
it  we  can  reproduce  ourselves,  be  young  even  when  the 
limbs  are  failing,  and  have  all  the  past  belonging  to  us 
when  the  hair  is  silvery  and  the  eyes  are  dim.  IIow 
can  he  be  a  skeptic  or  a  materialist,  for  whom  memory 
every  moment  raises  the  dead,  and  refuses  to  surrender 
the  departed  years  to  the  destroyer;  communes  with 
the  loved  ones  though  the  shroud  enfolds  them ;  and 
converses  with  cherished  voices  which  for  long  years 


4G 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAT. 


liave  never  spoken  with  tongues  ?  I  liad  almost  said, 
but  that  I  know  the  deep  depravity  of  the  human  heart, 
how  can  he  sin  who  has  memory  ?  For  though  the  mur¬ 
derer  may  stab  Iris  victim  in  secret,  far  from  living  wit¬ 
nesses,  and  may  carefully  remove  from  the  polluted  earth 
the  foul  traces  of  his  crime,  memory  is  a  witness  that  he 
can  neither  gag  nor  stifle,  and  he  bears  about  with  him 
in  his  own  terrible  consciousness  the  blasted  immor¬ 
tality  of  his  being.  Oh,  it  is  a  rare  and  a  divine 
endowment !  Memories  of  sanctity  or  sin  pervade  all 
the  firmament  of  being.  There  is  but  the  flitting 
moment  in  which  to  hope  or  to  enjoy,  but  in  the  calen¬ 
dar  of  memory  that  moment  is  all  time.  This,  then,  is 
the  faculty  which  the  Jewish  law-giver  calls  up  into 
exercise  :  “Thou  slialt  remember  all  the  way  which  the 
Lord  thy  God  hath  led  thee  these  forty  years  in  the 
wilderness.”  And  in  truth  there  could  be  no  grander 
history,  nor  one  richer  in  instruction,  than  theirs. 
From  the  time  when  they  groaned  in  bondage,  and 
their  cry  went  up  unto  God,  until  now,  when,  after 
forty  years’  vicissitudes,  they  stood  upon  the  threshold  of 
the  land  of  Canaan,  each  day  would  have  its  wonder  and 
its  lesson.  They  had  been  led  by  a  way  which  they  knew 
not ;  they  had  seen  the  laws  of  nature  suspended,  and 
the  mechanism  of  the  firmament  disorganized  on  their 
behalf.  In  Egypt  they  had  quailed  beneath  the  very 
Omnipotence  which  had  delivered  them,  and  they  had 
crouched  trembling  at  the  base  of  Sinai,  while  ever  and 
anon  loomed  through  the  darkness  the  flashings  forth 

O  O 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


47 


of  the  Divinity  within.  Sustained  by  perpetual  mira¬ 
cle,  delivered  with  an  outstretched  arm,  with  the  bar¬ 
renness  behind  and  the  plenty  before  them,  they  were 
to  “  remember  the  way  which  the  Lord  had  led  them  in 
the  wilderness.” 

Brethren,  our  own,  if  we  will  only  think  of  it,  has 
been  an  instructive  history.  There  is  much  in  the  life 
of  each  of  us,  in  its  rest,  and  in  its  change,  in  its 
hazard,  and  in  its  deliverance,  which  will  repay  us  if 
we  revisit  it  to-day.  Be  it  ours  to  recall  the  past,  to 
recover  the  obliterated  circumstance,  to  abide  again  at 
each  halting-place  of  our  journey,  to  decipher  the 
various  inscriptions  which  the  lapse  of  time  has  fretted 
almost  to  decay,  to  remember ,  as  the  Israelites,  the  way 
which  the  Lord  hath  led  us. 

1.  There  would  be  in  their  history,  in  the  first  place, 
the  remembrance  of  favor,  and  by  consequence  of  joy. 
All  through  their  course  they  had  had  very  special 
manifestations  of  the  power  and  goodness  of  God.  lie 
had  brought  them  out  with  a  high  hand  from  the  pride 
and  tyranny  of  Pharaoh,  he  had  cleared  a  path  for 
them  through  the  obedient  waters,  the  heavens  had 
rained  down  sustenance,  the  rock  had  quenched  their 
thirst  ;  Jehovah’s  presence  had  gone  with  them 
through  the  tangled  desert  path,  by  day  in  guiding 
cloud,  by  night  in  lambent  flame ;  their  raiment  had 
not  waxed  old  upon  them,  neither  their  foot  swelled, 
for  forty  years.  lie  had  spoiled  their  enemies  in 
their  sight.  Sihon,  king  of  the  Amorites,  and  Og, 


48 


MEMORIES  OF  TIIE  WAY. 


king  of  Baslian,  had  fallen  before  liis  power.  When 
the  law-giver  gathered  the  tribes  in  the  plains  of 
Moab,  he  could  say :  “  blot  one  thing  of  all  that  the 
Lord  your  God,  hath  spoken  hath  ever  failed and 
there  was  not  a  murmur  in  the  host,  and  there  was  not 
an  individual  in  the  congregation  that  could  either  gain¬ 
say  or  deny. 

Brethren,  there  could  not  fail  to  be  great  and  grateful 
rejoicing  in  this  remembrance  of  the  loving  kindness 
of  the  Lord.  That  loving  kindness  has  compassed  us 
from  the  first  moment  of  our  existence  until  now,  and 
by  his  favor  he  hath  made  our  mountain  to  stand  strong. 
I  would  call  up  before  you  to-day  those  scenes  in  your 
history  upon  which  you  are  apt  to  dwell  with  joyous 
and  grateful  memory.  Think  of  the  gracious  Provi¬ 
dence  who  cared  for  your  infancy,  and  who  prevented 
your  doings  in  youth  ;  think  of  the  unexpected  deliver¬ 
ances,  the  unlooked-for  surprises  of  blessing  with  which 
you  have  been  visited  ;  pause  before  the  various  stones 
of  help  which  you  have  erected  in  the  course  of  your 
journey ;  remember  the  stores  of  gladness  inexhaust¬ 
ible  and  constantly  operating,  that  have  been  poured 
upon  you  by  the  bounty  of  your  heavenly  Father  ;  the 
joy  of  your  heart,  the  joy  peculiar  to  yourselves,  the 
natural  and  inevitable  outflow  of  childhood’s  sportive¬ 
ness  and  glee,  the  joy  of  enlarging  knowledge,  the  joy 
of  some  new  discovery  of  the  beautiful,  of  some  keener 
thirst  after  the  true ;  the  joy  of  travel,  the  sight  of 
earth’s  great  cities,  fair  landscapes,  and  spots  renowned 


MEMORIES  OF  TIIE  WAY. 


49 


in  song  and  story;  the  joy  of  home,  of  parents  whose 
love  has  cast  a  spell  upon  your  after-lives,  from  which 
you  would  not  he  disenchanted  if  you  could — brother, 
and  sister,  and  wife,  and  husband,  names  that  mean 
more  to  the  heart,  a  thousand-fold,  than  they  can  ever 
mean  to  the  ear;  friends  that  knew  you  and  that  under¬ 
stood  you,  those  twin  souls  who  bore  with  your  weak¬ 
nesses  without  chiding,  and  who  entered  into  your 
dreams  with  sympathy.  The  joy  of  meetings,  and  of 
farewells,  and  of  that  which  came  between  more  sweet 
than  each.  The  joy  of  the  Church  ;  victory  over  some 
besetting  temptation ;  glad  seasons  of  Christian  fellow¬ 
ship,  which  can  never  be  forgotten  ;  sermons  that 
seemed,  in  their  exquisite  adaptedness,  as  if  they  had 
been  made  for  you,  to  counsel  in  perplexity,  to  comfort 
in  trouble ;  sacramental  occasions  when,  in  no  distem¬ 
pered  vision,  you  a  saw  heaven  opened,  and  the  Son 
of  Man  standing  upon  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  of 
God.”  The  joy  of  usefulness,  the  gladness  which  thrilled 
through  you  when  you  succored  the  distressed,  or  were 
valiant  for  the  truth,  or  pitied  and  reclaimed  the  erring, 
or  flung  the  garment  of  praise  over  some  bewildered 
spirit  of  heaviness.  The  joy  that  has  sprung  for  you 
out  of  sorrow,  and  has  been  all  the  brighter  for  the  con¬ 
trast  ;  deliverance  from  danger  which  threatened  to  be 
imminent,  recovery  from  sickness  that  seemed  as  though 
it  were  about  to  be  mortal ;  the  lightnings  that  have  let 
the  glory  through  the  clouds ;  the  flowers  that  you  have 
so  often  plucked  from  tombs.  Call  up  the  mighty  sum 

3 


50 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


of  gladness  now,  and  as,  subdued  and  grateful  in  the 
memory,  you  think  of  your  past  times,  many  a  lip 
will  cpiiver  and  many  a  heart  be  full,  as  you  remem% 
ber  the  way  which  the  Lord  hath  led  you  in  the  wil¬ 
derness. 

2.  There  would,  secondly,  be  in  their  history  the  re¬ 
membrance  of  sin,  and,  by  consequence  of  sin,  the  re¬ 
membrance  of  sorrow.  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  as 
a  fact,  and  more  illustrative  of  the  depravity  of  the 
human  heart,  than  the  frequency  with  which  the  child¬ 
ren  of  Israel  sinned.  Only  three  days  after  the  won¬ 
derful  interposition  at  the  Red  Sea,  their  murmurings 
began.  The  miracle  at  Marah,  although  it  appeased 
their  thirst,  failed  to  inspire  their  confidence,  for  they 
tempted  God  again  at  the  Waters  of  Strife.  Although 
the  manna  fell  without  ceasing,  they  lusted  after  the 
fleshpots  of  Egypt.  Their  whole  history,  indeed,  is  a 
record  of  perpetual  sin,  a  perpetual  lapse,  now  into 
jealousy,  and  now  into  sensualism,  now  into  unbelief, 
and  now,  alas,  into  idolatry.  These  repeated  trans¬ 
gressions,  of  necessity,  introduced  them  to  sorrow,  and 
they  suffered,  in  almost  every  variety,  the  strokes  of 
Jehovah’s  displeasure.  They  were  wasted  by  success¬ 
ive  pestilences  ;  they  were  devoured  by  fiery  serpents 
in  the  wilderness ;  the  earth  opened  her  mouth  and 
swallowed  up  the  rebellious  sons  of  Ivorali ;  the  Lord 
went  not  forth  with  their  hosts  to  battle  ;  and  they  fled 
discomfited  and  crestfallen  before  the  face  of  their 
enemies.  Their  journey  Was  made  protracted  and 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


51 


dangerous.  Bereavement  visited  every  tent  in  turn. 
One  after  another  the  head  of  each  family  bowed,  and 
sunk,  and  fell,  until  of  all  those  who  left  Egypt,  stal¬ 
wart  and  sinewy  men,  only  two,  and  those  of  another 
spirit,  remained  to  enter  into  the  land  of  promise  and 
of  rest ;  and  the  very  lawgiver  who  called  up  the 
exercise  of  the  memory,  and  the  few  old  men,  upon 
whose  brows  the  almond  tree  was  flourishing,  thinly 
scattered  here  and  there  among  the  tribes,  knew  that 
their  heads  must  bow,  their  frames  dissolve  in  death, 
ere  the  van-standard  of  the  host  could  be  unfurled 
within  the  borders  of  the  promised  land.  There  could 
not  fail  to  be  subdued  and  pensive  emotion  in  this 
aspect  of  the  remembrance  of  the  way.  Our  own 
history  has  its  sorrowful  side,  too,  which  it  will  be  well 
for  us  to  remember  to-day.  All  sorrow,  of  course, 
comes  originally  from  sin,  but  there  is  some  sorrow 
which  we  inherit  from  no  personal  transgression,  but 
which  has  been  handed  down  to  us,  a  sad  entail  of 
suffering,  a  disastrous  transmission  from  our  earliest 
fathers.  The  remembrance  of  such  sorrows  stretches 
far  back  in  the  history  of  every  one’s  life.  Perhaps 
you  were  cruelly  treated  in  youth,  and  you  can  hardly 
think  of  it  now  without  shuddering.  Perhaps  some 
bitter  disappointment  made  your  path  ungenial,  or 
some  early  unkindness  came  like  a  frost-blight  upon 
your  fresh,  young  hopes,  just  when  you  were  beginning 
to  indulge  them.  Perhaps  a  long  sickness  chained  you 
down,  and  you  suffered  the  illness  of  hope  deferred, 


52 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


and  you  wondered  whether  the  cheek  would  ever  bloom 
again  in  the  ruddiness  of  health,  and  whether  the  elas¬ 
tic  pulse  would  ever  bound  and  swell  through  the  veins. 
Perhaps  there  are  other  memories — most  likely  there 
are — so  dense  in  their  darkness  as  to  cast  all  the  rest 
into  a  relief  of  lesser  shadow.  The  first  breaking  up 
of  your  homes,  the  stroke  that  swept  you  into  orphan¬ 
hood,  or  that  took  away  the  desire  of  your  -eyes  with  a 
stroke,  or  that  cast  you  upon  a  cold  world’s  charities 
for  work  and  bread.  Call  up  these  memories,  though 
the  heart  bleeds  afresh  as  you  think  of  them.  They 
have  their  uses ;  they  need  not  be  summoned  for  the 
first  time  in  vain.  And  then  the  memory  of  sin — 
don’t  hide  it,  don’t  be  cowardly  about  it;  confront 
your  yesterdays,  not  in  defiance,  but  in  penitence  and 
prayer ;  your  long  resistance  to  the  strivings  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  veiled  impertinence  with  which  you 
refused  to  hearken  to  a  father’s  counsels  and  were  deaf 
to  the  entreaties  of  a  mother’s  prayers.  The  sins  of 
your  youth,  which,  though  you  humbly  trust  are  par¬ 
doned  by  the  grace  of  God,  plague  you  still,  like  the 
scars  of  some  old  wound,  with  shooting  pains  in  many 
a  change  of  weather.  Your  unfaithfulness  since  the 
Lord  called  you,  your  indulgence  since  your  conversion 
in  things  you  dared  not  for  your  lives  have  done  while 
you  were  seeking  mercy.  IIow  you  have  cherished 
some  secret  idol,  or  forborne  to  deliver  them  that  were 
drawn  to  death,  or  dwelt  in  your  ceiled  houses,  intent 
only  upon  you  own  aggrandizement  and  pleasure, 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


53 


while  the  house  of  God  lay  waste.  Call  up  these 
memories,  do  not  disguise  them  ;  they  will  how  you  in 
humility  before  God. 

This  is  the  memory  of  the  way.  “Thou  shalt  re¬ 
member  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  led 
thee.”  All  the  way — it  is  necessary  that  all  the  way 
should  be  remembered — the  hill  of  difficulty  as  well  as 
the  valley  of  humiliation,  the  time  of  prosperity  as  well 
as  the  time  of  pain.  Necessary  for  our  advantage  that 
we  may  understand  our  position,  learn  the  lessons  of 
providence  and  grace ;  necessary  that  we  may  con¬ 
struct  a  narrative,  for  every  event  in  our  history  is  con¬ 
nected  and  mutually  interpreted ;  necessary  that  we 
may  trace  the  outworking  of  Jehovah’s  plan  in  the 
successive  achievements  of  our  lives.  And  if  by  the 
memory  of  joy  you  are  impressed  with  God’s  benefi¬ 
cence,  kept  in  cheerful  piety,  and  saved  from  the  foul 
sin  of  repining ;  and  if  by  the  memory  of  sorrow  you 
are  molded  into  a  gentler  type,  taught  a  softer  sym¬ 
pathy,  and  receive  a  heavenward  impulse,  and  antici¬ 
pate  a  blessed  reunion ;  if  by  the  memory  of  sin  you 
are  re  ip  hided  of  your  frailty,  and  rebuked  of  your 
pride,  stimulated  to  repentance  and  urged  to  trust  in 
God — then  it  will  be  no  irksomeness,  but  a  heaven-sent 
and  precious  blessing  that  you  have  thus  “  remembered 
the  way  that  the  Lord  hath  led  thee  in  the  wilder¬ 
ness/’ 

II.  I  come,  secondlv,  to  notice  the  purposes  of  Divine 
Providence  in  the  journey.  These  are  stated  to  be 


54 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


three  :  “  to  humble  thee  and  to  prove  thee,  to  know 
what  was  in  thine  heart,  whether  thou  wouldest  keep 
his  commandments  or  no.”  The  passage  cells  us  that 
in  all  God’s  dealings  with  the  children  of  Israel,  whether 
he  corrected  them  in  judgment  or  enriched  them  with 
bounty,  there  were  purposes  at  work — purposes  of  spi¬ 
ritual  discipline,  intended  to  induce  self-searching  and 
the  improvement  of  their  hearts  and  lives. 

1.  The  first  purpose  that  is  spoken  of  is  to  induce 
humility — “to  humble  thee.”  Every  event,  alike  in 
their  deliverance  from  Egypt  and  in  their  passage 
through  the  wilderness,  was  calculated  to,  show  them 
their  own  feebleness,  and  their  constant  dependence 
upon  a  high  and  upon  a  superior  power.  What  could 
human  might  have  effected  for  them  in  the  way  of 
securing  their  deliverance  from  Egypt  ?  Their  spirits 
were  broken  by  long  years  of  slavery  ;  the  iron  had  not 
only  gyved  their  limbs,  it  had  entered  into  their  soul. 
They  had  not  the  heart,  any  one  of  them,  to  strike  for 
freedom  ;  and  if  they  had  even  meditated  a  rising,  they 
were  a  people  of  such  divided  counsels,  and  so  dis¬ 
trustful  of  each  other,  that  it  would  have  been  but  a 
paroxysm  of  frantic  rebellion,  which  would  have  rooted 
the  Pharaohs  on  the  empire,  and  have  riveted  upon 
themselves  the  yoke  of  a  more  bitter  bondage.  When 
the  permission  for  departure  was  wrung  reluctantly 
from  the  plague-stricken  king,  what  could  human 
might  have  availed  for  them,  when  he  repented  of  his 
momentary  graciousness,  and, pursued  after  them  in  hot 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


55 


haste,  and  they  were  on  the  borders  of  the  Red  Sea, 
with  the  giant  waves  barring  their  progress,  and  a  host 
of  ferocious  enemies  behind  ?  Everything  in  their  ex¬ 
perience  taught  them  their  dependence  upon  God. 
They  were  led  through  a  region  that  no  adventurer 
had  ever  explored,  no  foot  had  ever  trod.  When  they 
pitched  their  tents  at  eventide,  they  knew  not  at  what 
hour  they  should  strike  them,  nor  whether  they  should 
strike  them  at  all ;  there  might  be  forced  years  of  en¬ 
campment  in  that  one  spot ;  there  might  be  forced 
marches  and  rapid  progress ;  but  they  had  no  control 
over  it :  as  the  pillar  went,  and  wherever  the  pillar 
went,  they  went ;  and  as  they  sounded  forth  their 
matin  song  of  praise,  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  whole 
congregation  that  could  tell  through  what  rocky  clefts 
or  woody  defiles  the  echoes  of  the  vesper  hymn  would 
sound.  Their  supply  was  as  miraculous  as  their  guid¬ 
ance.  ETo  plough  had  turned  up  the  soil,  no  river  mur¬ 
mured  by  their  side,  they  had  never  gazed  for  forty 
years  upon  one  solitary  blossom  of  the  spring-time,  nor 
had  the  golden  grain  ever  once  in  their  sight  bent 
gracefully  to  the  sickle  of  the  reaper :  they  were  fed 
with  manna,  which  they  knew  not. 

“  When  faint  they  were  and  parched  with  drought, 

Water  at  his  word  gushed  out.” 

Oh !  it  is  the  world’s  grandest  illustration  of  man’s 
absolute  feebleness  and  of  God’s  eternal  power.  GOO, 000 
fighting  men,  beside  women  and  children,  led  by  Divine 


56 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


leadership,  and  fed  by  Divine  bounty,  for  the  space  of 
forty  years.  Brethren,  the  dealings  of  Providence  with 
ourselves  are  intended  to  show  us  our  dependence  upon 
God,  and  to  humble  ns  in  the  dust  under  his  mighty 
hand.  We  are  very  proud,  sometimes,  and  we  talk 
about  our  endowments,  and  we  boast  largely  of  what  we 
have  done,  and  what  we  intend  to  do ;  but  we  can  do 
absolutely  nothing.  The  athletic  frame — how  soon  can 
he  bring  it  down !  The  well-endowed  heritage — how 
soon  can  he  scatter  it !  The  mental  glance,  keen  and 
piercing — how  soon  can  he  bring  upon  it  the  dimness 
and  bewilderment  of  years !  We  cannot,  any  one  of 
us,  bring  ourselves  into  being ;  we  cannot,  any  one  of 
us,  sustain  ourselves  in  being  for  a  moment.  Alas ! 
who  of  us  can  stay  the  spirit,  when  the  summons  has 
gone  forth  that  it  must  die?  We  are  free ;  we  cannot 
help  feeling  that  we  are  free ;  and  yet  we  can  as  little 
help  feeling  that  our  freedom  is  bounded,  that  it  has  a 
horizon,  something  that  indicates  a  watchful  Providence 
outside.  How  often  have  we  aimed  at  building  for 
ourselves  tabernacles  of  remembrance  and  of  rest,  and 
we  have  gazed  upon  the  building  joyfully  as  it  pro¬ 
gressed  to  completion,  and  then  the  breath  of  the  Lord 
lias  blown  upon  it,  and  it  has  been  scattered,  and  we 
have  been  turned  adrift  and  shelterless ;  and,  lo ! 
dwellings  already  provided  for  us  of  firmer  materials 
and  of  more  excellent  beauty,  upon  which  we  bestowed 
no  labor  nor  thought.  And  so  it  is  with  all  the  matters 
of  human  glory.  The  strong  man  rejoiceth  in  his 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


strength,  and  magnifieth.  himself  in  the  might  of  his 
arms,  but  the  Lord  hath  made  him  strong;  the  wise 
man  glorifieth  himself  in  his  intellect,  hut  the  clear  per¬ 
ception,  and  the  brilliant  fancy,  and  the  fluent  utter¬ 
ance,  these  are  God’s  gifts ;  the  rich  man  rejoiceth  in 
his  riches,  but  the  prudence  to  plan,  and  the  sagacity  to 
foresee,  and  the  industry  to  gather,  these  are  the  bestow- 
ments  of  God. 

Ah !  why  will  men  sacrifice  to  their  own  net,  and 
bum  incense  to  their  own  drag,  when  they  have  abso¬ 
lutely  nothing  which  they  have  not  received ;  and 
when  every  gift  cometli  from  the  Lather  of  light,  with 
whom  there  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turn¬ 
ing  ?  And  in  the  realm  of  morals,  and  in  the  spiritual 
life,  our  feebleness  is  the  same.  A  conscience  void  of 
offence,  a  good  report  of  those  that  are  without  a 
heavenly  purpose  or  a  holy  resolve,  the  inner  purifica¬ 
tion  or  the  comely  outgrowth  of  a  beneficent  life — we 
are  poor  to  compass  them.  We  acquire  them  only  by 
our  dependence  upon  God.  Have  you  learned  this 
lesson,  this  deep,  hard  lesson  of  humility  ?  Forty  years’ 
sins  you  have  committed !  have  they  humbled  you  in 
the  presence  of  God?  Forty  years’  chastenings  have 
corrected  you !  have  they  humbled  your  pride  or  fretted 
you  into  greater  audacity  of  rebellion?  Forty  years’ 
mercies  have  blessed  you !  have  they  excited  your 
gratitude  or  inflated  your  vanity  ?  Brethren,  we  must 
be  humbled,  if  we  would  be  happy.  It  was  in  the 
Talley  of  Humiliation,  you  remember,  that  the  lad  that 

3* 


58 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


had  the  herb  lieart’s-ease  in  his  bosom  kept  his  serene 
and  his  rejoicing  home. 

2.  Then  the  second  purpose  of  God’s  providence  in 
the  journey  is  to  prove  us.  The  idea  seems  to  be,  that 
a  skillful  chemist  employs  tests  for  the  purpose  of  ana¬ 
lysis,  and  to  discover  the  composition  of  that  which  he 
examines,  so  God  uses  the  occurrences  of  life  as  a  moral 
touchstone,  to  discover  the  tendencies  and  inclinations 
of  man.  Thus  we  read  God  did  tempt,  test,  try,  prove 
Abraham,  requiring  from  him  a  sacrifice,  excessive  and 
apparently  cruel,  in  order  that  lie  might  know  the 
strength  of  his  servant’s  faith,  and  of  his  filial  fear. 
There  were  many  of  those  testing  circumstances  in  the 
history  of  the  children  of  Israel.  They  were  tested  by 
their  mercies,  as  when,  feeling  the  manna  insipid,  they 
lusted  after  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt ;  they  were  tested  by 
their  duties  ;  they  were  tested  by  their  calamities,  as  at 
the  Bed  Sea,  aiid  in  the  conflicts  with  the  hosts  of 
Amalek.  They  were  tested  by  their  companions,  as 
wdien  they  formed  unholy  league  with  Midianite  idola¬ 
ters,  and  brought  upon  themselves  that  swift  destruction 
which  Balak  wished  for,  but  which  the  cowardly  Balaam 
dared  not  for  his  life  invoke.  Brethren, *God  has  his 
crucible  still.  In  our  past  lives  we  shall  find  circum¬ 
stances  that  have  tried  ourselves,  and  we  shall  remem¬ 
ber  the  results  of  the  trial  sometimes  with  devout 
gratitude,  oftener  with  unfeigned  shame.  Our  afflic¬ 
tions  have  tried  us,  and  we  have  thought  that  we  have 
done  well  to  be  angry,  and  we  have  arraigned  the  pro- 


MEMORIES  OF  TIIE  WAY. 


59 


ceedings  of  God  at  the  bar  of  our  limited  reason  (solemn 
mockery  of  judicature !)  when,  perhaps,  the  reflection 
of  to-morrow  would  have  approved  what  the  distrust  of 
to-day  was  so  ready  to  condemn.  Our  duties  have  tried 
us.  We  have  felt  the  shrinking  of  the  flesh,  and  the 
result  has  been  sometimes  their  reluctant  and  sometimes 
their  spiritless  discharge.  Other  people  have  been 
unjust  or  unkind  to  us  :  we  have  met  with  ingratitude 
or  with  treachery  ;  our  own  familiar  one,  in  whom  we 
trusted,  has  betrayed  us  ;  slander  has  been  busy  belch¬ 
ing  out  her  calumnies  against  our  fair  fame ;  all  these 
things  have  tested  our  patience,  our  endurance,  our 
meekness,  our  long-suffering,  and,  like  Moses,  we  have 
spoken  unadvisedly,  or,  like  the  disciples,  we  have  had 
to  pray,  “  Lord,  increase  our  faith,”  before  wre  could 
grasp  the  large  and  princely  idea  of  forgiveness  to 
seventy  times  seven.  Often  companionships  have  tried 
us,  and  we  have  shown  how  small  has  been  our  self- 
reliance  and  how  easily  we  have  taken  the  hue  and 
mold  of  the  society  in  which  we  were  thrown,  and  how 
a  pointed  finger,  or  a  sarcastic  laugh,  or  a  lip  scornfully 
curled,  can  shame  the  manhood  out  of  us,  and  make  us 
very  cowards  in  resisting  evil,  or  in  bearing  witness  for 
God.  Thus  have  we  been,  thus  has  God  proved  us  in 
the  wilderness,  and  if  we  are  in  earnest  for  heaven,  and 
if  we  have  in  any  measure  profited  by  the  discipline,  we 
shall  be  thankful  for  the  trial.  Placed  as  we  are  in  a 
sinful  world,  exposed  to  its  every-day  influences, 
whether  of  good  or  evil,  we  need  a  piety  which  can 


CO 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


maintain  itself  in  all  circumstances,  and  under  every 
pressure.  The  trial  will  be  a  matter  of  choice,  preferred 
by  every  godly  and  valiant  Christian  soldier.  He 
feels  as  though  that  were  an  inglorious  heaven  that  was 
won  without  a  sacrifice  and  without  a  toil ;  he  knows 
that  the  promise  is  not  that  he  shall  pass  through  the 
wilderness  without  the  sight  of  an  enemy  ;  it  is  a  better 
promise  than  that — that  we  shall  never  see  an  enemy 
that  we  cannot  master,  and  that  by  God’s  grace  we  can¬ 
not  completely  overcome ;  and  lie  had  rather  don  his 
armor  for  a  foeman  worthy  of  his  steel,  for  an  enemy 
that  will  at  once  prove  his  own  valor  and  show  the 
resources  of  the  Captain  of  his  salvation,  than  he  would 
don  it  in  order  to  prance  in  the  gorgeous  apparellings  of 
some  holiday  review.  Oh  !  believe  me,  the  piety  which 
the  world  needs,  which  the  church  needs,  and  which  we 
must  have  if  we  would  be  approved  of  our  Great 
Master,  must  not  be  that  sickly  sentimentality  which 
lounges  on  ottomans,  and  discusses  social  and  moral 
problems  while  it  is  at  ease  in  Sion  ;  it  must  be  the 
hardy  principle  pining  in  inaction,  robust  from  healthy 
exercise,  never  so  happy  as  when  it  is  climbing  up  the 
slopes  of  some  difficult  duties,  and  has  the  breeze  from 
the  crest  of  the  mountain  stirring  amid  its  waving  hair: 
and  happy,  thrice  happy,  will  it  be  for  you  if,  as  the 
result  of  the  inspection,  you  can  say,  as  David  did, 
“  Thou  hast  proved  my  heart  and  thou  hast  visited  me 
in  the  night ;  thou  hast  tried  me  and  slialt  find  nothing. 
I  am  purposed  that  my  heart  shall  not  transgress,  con- 


MEMORIES  OF  TIIE  WAY. 


61 


cerning  the  works  of  men  ;  by  the  word  of  thy  lips 
I  have  kept  me  from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.” 

3.  And  then  the  third  purpose  of  Providence  in  the 
journey  is  “  to  know  what  was  in  thine  heart — whether 
tliou  wouldest  keep  his  commandments  or  no.”  The 
human  heart  is  a  microcosm — a  little  world,  containing  in 
itself  all  the  strifes,  and  all  the  hopes,  and  all  the  fears, 
and  all  the  ventures  of  the  larger  world  outside.  The 
human  heart !  who  can  unravel  its  mystery,  or  decipher 
its  hidden  law?  The  smile  may  play  upon  the  lip, 
while  beneath  there  is  the  broken,  burning  heart;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  countenance  may  have  shadow 
of  anxiety,  wdiile  the  sunlight  dances  gaily  on  the  soul. 
The  human  heart!  Human  knowledge  can  give  us  very 
little  acquaintance  with  it ;  such  knowledge  is  too  won¬ 
derful  for  man ;  it  is  high,  and  he  cannot  attain  unto  it ; 
but  there  is  One  who  knows  it,  and  knows  all  its  tortuous 
policy,  and  all  its  sinister  motive,  and  he  is  anxious  that 
we  should  know  it,  too,  and  one  purpose  of  his  provi¬ 
dential  dealings  with  us  is,  that  we  may  know  what  is 
in  our  heart;  and  vet  of  all  sciences  none  is  so  difficult 
of  attainment  as  this  same  science  of  self-knowledge. 
Whether  it  be  from  the  deceitfulness  of  the  object  of 
study,  or  whether  it  be  from  the  morbid  reluctance, 
almost  amounting  to  fear,  with  which  men  shrink  from 
acquaintance  with  themselves,  there  are  few  that  have 
the  bravery  to  pray,  “Lord,  make  me  to  know  myself.” 
Indeed,  it  were  a  hideous  picture  if  it  were  suddenly 
unveiled  in  the  presence  of  us  all.  When  the  T/wd 


62 


MEMORIES  OF  TIIE  WAY. 


would  show  Ezekiel  the  abominations  of  Jerusalem,  he 
led  him  through  successive  chambers  of  imagery,  upon 
the  walls  of  which  were  portrayed  their  loathsome  and 
unworthy  doings.  Ah !  if  our  enormities  were  to  be 
thus  tapestried  in  our  sight,  who  of  us  could  bear  the 
disclosure?  There  was  deep  self-knowledge  and  deep 
humility  in  the  word  of  the  old  reformer,  who,  wThen  he 
saw  a  criminal  led  off  amid  the  jeers  of  the  multitude  to 
be  hanged  at  Tyburn,  turned  around  sighing,  and  said  : 
“There,  but  for  the  grace  of  God,  goes  old  John  Brad¬ 
ford.”  There  is  a  very  affecting  illustration  of  what  can 
lurk  unsuspected  in  the  human  heart,  in  the  8th  chapter 
of  the  2nd  book  of  Kings :  “  And  Elisha  came  to 
Damascus ;  and  Ben-hadad,  the  king  of  Syria,  was  sick  ; 
and  it  was  told  him,  saying,  The  man  of  God  is  come 
hither.  And  the  king  said  unto  Ilazael,  Take  a  present 
in  thine  hand,  and  go,  meet  the  man  of  God,  and  in¬ 
quire  of  the  Lord  by  him,  saying,  Shall  I  recover  of  this 
disease?  So  JIazael  went  to  meet  him,  and  took  a  pre¬ 
sent  with  him,  even  of  every  good  thing  of  Damascus, 
forty  camels’  burden,  and  came  and  stood  before  him, 
and  said,  Thy  son,  Ben-hadad,  king  of  Syria,  hath  sent 
me  to  thee,  saying,  Shall  I  recover  of  this  disease?  And 
Elisha  said  unto  him,  Go,  say  unto  him,  Thou  mayest 
certainly  recover.  [The  disease  itself  is  not  fated  to 
destroy  thee  ;  there  is  no  decree  of  that  kind].  Howbeit 
the  Lord  hath  showed  me  that  he  shall  surely  die. 
And  he  settled  his  countenance  steadfastly,  until  he  was 
ashamed;  and  the  man  of  God, wept.  And  Ilazael  said, 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


t>3 


Why  weepeth  my  lord?  And  lie  answered,  Because  I 
know  the  evil  that  thou  wilt  do  unto  the  children  of 
Israel ;  their  strongholds  wilt  thou  set  on  fire,  and  their 
young  men  wilt  thou  slay  with  the  sword,  and  wilt  dash 
their  children,  and  rip  up  their  women  with  child. 
And  Hazael  said  [shocked  at  the  hare  meption  of  such 
atrocities],  But  what,  is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he 
should  do  this  great  thing?”  But,  as  the  old  divine 
quaintly  says,  “  the  dog  did  it  after  all.”  Brethren, 
there  lurks  this  danger  in  us  all ;  there  is  no  superiority 
of  character  in  ourselves ;  there  is  no  firmer  power  of 
resistance  to  evil.  In  our  unaided  strength  we  are  no 
better  fortified  against  the  extremes  of  iniquity  than 
many  around  us  who  now  wallow  in  the  atrocities  of 
crime.  That  speculative  merchant,  whose  affairs  had  be¬ 
come  hopelessly  embarrassed,  and  who,  in  the  vain  hope 
of  retrieval,  plied  the  too  ready  pen  of  the  forger,  and 
in  that  sad  moment  forfeited  the  probity  of  years — how 
sad  must  have  been  his  reflections  when,  to  use  his  own 
expressive  words,  he  “  agonized  on,”  when  he  thought 
that  he  should  transmit  to  his  children  nothing  but  the 
heritage  of  a  blasted  name,  and  that  those  children 
would  have  an  up-hill  struggle  all  the  way  through  life, 
their  own  blamelessness  beino;  a  small  matter  apainst 
the  terrible  opprobrium  of  their  father’s  misdoings.  lie 
who  continues  in  the  feast  until  wine  inflames  him,  im¬ 
agines  that  he  can  tread  without  danger  upon  the  giddy 
verge  over  which  multitudes  have  fallen  ;  but,  by  little 
and  little,  he  cherishes  the  unappeasable  thirst  for  drink 


64 


MEMORIES  OX<  TIIE  WAY. 


until  it  becomes  a  morbid  physical  malady,  and,  frantic 
and  despairing,  he  rushes  down  into  the  drunkard’s 
grave.  That  youth  who,  at  the  solicitation  of  some  gay 
companion,  ventures,  for  the  first  time,  into  the  foul  hell 
of  a  gaming-house,  and  who  joins  in  the  perilous  hazard, 
would  scoif  at  the  prophet  who  should  tell  him  that,  a 
few  years  hence,  a  gambler  and  a  spendthrift,  he  should 
live  in  poverty  and  die  in  shame.  That  young  man 
who,  to  gain  funds,  perhaps,  for  the  Sunday  excursion, 
or  for  the  night’s  debauch,  took  the  money  from  his 
master’s  till  with  the  conscientious  intention  of  replac¬ 
ing  it  at  the  time  of  the  quarterly  supply,  little  thought 
that  that  deceitful  heart  of  his  would  land  him  in  a 
felon’s  dock,  or,  upon  the  deck  of  the  transport  ship, 
waft  him  to  a  returnless  distance  from  his  country  and 
his  home.  Brethren,  from  a  thousand  causes  of  disaster 
and  of  shame  with  which  our  experience  can  furnish  us, 
and  which  we  read  in  the  history  of  every-day  life,  it 
becomes  us,  with  godly  jealousy  watching  over  our  own 
hearts,  to  guard  against  the  beginnings  of  evil ;  and  as 
we  think  of  blighted  reputations  and  of  ruined  hopes — 
of  many  once  fair,  and  innocent,  and  scrupulous,  and 
promising  as  we — as  we  gaze  upon  the  wreck  of  many 
a  gallant  vessel  stranded  by  our  side,  which  we  saw 
steaming  out  of  the  harbor  with  stately  pennons — let  us 
remember  that  in  us  there  are  the  same  tendencies  to 
evil,  that  it  is  grace — only  grace — which  hath  made  us 
to  differ,  and  that  each  instance  of  calamity  and  of  sin, 
while  it  evokes  our  pity — not  our  scorn — for  those  that 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


65 


have  so  grievously  erred,  should  proclaim  in  solemn  ad¬ 
monition  to  ourselves,  “Let  him  that  thinketh  he 
standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall.”  “  To  know  what  is  in 
thine  heart,  whether  thou  wouldest  keep  his  command¬ 
ments  or  no.” 

III.  If  you  have  thus  travelled  in  the  way  that  you 
have  trodden,  there  will  be  many  uses  of  tiie  memory 
which  we  cannot  stay  to  particularize  to-day.  You  will 
know  more  of  God  at  the  conclusion  of  your  visit  than 
you  did  at  the  commencement.  You  will  behold  in  the 
way  both  the  goodness  and  the  severity  of  God — the 
severity  which  punishes  sin  wherever  it  is  to  be  found, 
the  goodness  which  itself  provides  a  substitute  and  finds 
a  Saviour.  Where  do  you  not  find  him,  rather  ?  There 
was  the  stream  gushing  forth  from  the  smitten  rock — 
was  there  not  ? — and  the  perishing  and  thirsty  Israelites 
were  happy.  “They  drank  of  the  rock  that  followed 
them,  and  that  rock  was  Christ.”  There  was  the  brazen 
serpent,  the  symbol  of  accepted  propitiation  in  the  wil¬ 
derness  of  sin.  “  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the 
wilderness,  even  so  hath  the  Son  of  Man  been  lifted  up, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but 
should  have  everlasting  life.”  Oh,  as  you  gather  up 
those  memories — the  memory  of  joy,  the  memory  of 
sorrow,  the  memory  of  sin — as  you  remember  the  good¬ 
ness  and  the  loving  kindness  of  the  Lord,  his  faithful¬ 
ness  to  fulfill  his  promises,  his  tenderness,  which  your 
repeated  rebellions  have  not  caused  to  fail — gather  up 
yourselves  in  one  earnest  consecration  of  flesh  and 


66 


MEMORIES  OF  THE  WAY. 


spirit,  which  I  take  to  he  the  best  consecration  of  the 
house  which  you  now  dedicate  to  God— living  temples, 
pillars  in  the  house  of  God,  that  shall  go  out  no  more 
forever. 


£*4 


II. 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


“  Not  that  we  are  sufficient  of  ourselves  to  think  anything  as  of  our¬ 
selves  ;  but  our  sufficiency  is  of  God.” — 2  Corinthians,  iii.  5. 


The  promise  contained  in  these  words  is  one  of  the 
most  encouraging  and  one  of  the  most  comprehensive 
in  the  Bible.  It  is  the  essence  of  all  Christian  expe¬ 
rience  ;  it  is  the  moral  which  the  Scriptures  continually 
inculcate,  and  it  stands  in  the  heraldry  of  heaven  as  the 
motto  on  the  believer’s  arms.  The  all-sufficiency  of 
God  has  been  the  support  and  comfort  of  the  faithful  in 
all  ages  of  the  Church.  On  this  rock  Abraham  built 
his  hope ;  to  this  refuge  in  all  times  of  trial  the  sweet 
Singer  of  Israel  fled ;  by  this  confidence  the  great 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles  was  constantly  and  persever- 
ingly  upheld.  The  all-sufficiency  of  God  gives  strength 
to  patience,  gives  solidity  to  hope,  gives  constancy  to 
endurance,  gives  nerve  and  vitality  to  eftort.  The 
weakest  believer,  with  this  great  treasure  in  possession, 
is  enabled  to  go  steadily  forward,  sacrificing  no  duty, 
resisting  all  sin ;  and,  amidst  every  horror  and  every 
humiliation,  feeling  within  him  the  still,  clear  light  of 

67 


63 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


life.  To  this  tlie  most  eminent  saints  are  indebted  for 
all  they  enjoy,  for  all  they  are  enabled  to  perform ;  and 
tbougli  assailed  by  various  foes  without,  and  by  various 
fears  witbin,  by  this  they  can  return  from  every  con¬ 
flict,  bearing  the  spoils  of  victory ;  and  as  with  the 
trophies  of  their  triumph  they  erect  the  grateful  Ebene- 
zer,  you  may  see  this  inscription  written  upon  them  all : 
“  Having  obtained  help  of  God,  we  continue  unto  this 
day,”  feeling  most  deeply  the  impotency  of  the  nature 
they  inherit,  and  penetrated  with  the  sense  of  the  diffi¬ 
culties  by  which  they  are  surrounded.  When  faith 
is  .in  exercise,  they  point  to  this  as  a  never-fail¬ 
ing  source  of  strength ;  and  in  the  course  of  their 
untried  and  unswerving  pilgrimage,  this  is  their  lan¬ 
guage  :  “  Let  the  wise  man,  if  he  will  be  so  foolish, 
trust  in  his  wisdom ;  let  the  rich  man  glory  in  his 
wealth ;  let  the  proud  man  vaunt  his  own  dignity ;  let 
the  trifler  make  the  world  his  defence;  we  dare  not 
trust  to  such  refuges  of  lies,  we  dare  not  build  upon 
foundations  that  are  palpably  insecure.  We  feel  our 
own  nothingness ;  but  we  feel  our  own  might,  because 
our  sufficiency  is  of  God. 

From  the  commencement  of  the  chapter  out  of  which 
these  words  are  taken,  we  learn  that  the  same  exclu¬ 
siveness  of  spirit  existed  in  the  days  of  Paul  which 
exists  in  certain  quarters  now,  and  that  the  same  charge 
— that  of  false  apostlesliip — was  brought  against  him 
that  has  since  been  so  plentifully  flung  at  eminent 
ministers  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  no  small  consolation  to 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


69 


find  that  we  are  thus  unchurched  in  good  company. 
The  apostle,  however,  answers  the  accusation  just  as 
any  man  would  do,  who  had  no  particular  interest  to 
serve  in  surrounding  a  great  question  with  a  crowd  of 
arguments  anything  hut  luminous — he  appeals  to  the 
Church  amongst  whom  he  had  labored,  and  asks  their 
verdict  as  to  his  success  as  a  minister :  “  Do  yve  begin 
again  to  commend  ourselves,  or  need  we,  as  some 
others,  epistles  of  commendation  to  you,  or  letters  of 
commendation  from  you  ?  Ye  are  our  epistle  [your 
changed  hearts,  your  holy  lives,  your  transformed  affec¬ 
tions,  your  heavenly  deportment — ye  are  our  epistles] 
written  in  our  hearts,  known  and  read  of  all  men  :  for¬ 
asmuch  as  ye  are  manifestly  declared  to  be  the  epistle 
of  Christ  ministered  by  us,  written  not  with  ink  [nor 
anything  so  fading],  hut  with  the  Spirit  of  the  living 
God ;  not  in  tables  of  stone  [nor  anything  so  hard],  hut 
in  fleshy  tables  of  the  heart;  and  such  trust  have  we 
through  Christ  to  God  ward  then,  so  anxious  is  he 
even  in  this  moment  of  his  triumphant  vindication  to 
avoid  all  appearance  of  boasting,  that  he  puts  in  a  great 
disclaimer  :  “  not  that  we  are  sufficient  of  ourselves  to 
think  anything  of  ourselves ;  all  that,  whether  in  us  as 
subjects  or  by  us  as  the  instruments,  has  been  done  by 
the  sovereign  power  of  God,  who  also  hath  made  us 
able  ministers  of  the  Yew  Testament,  not  of  the  letter, 
but  of  the  Spirit;  for  the  letter  killeth,  but  the  Spirit 
giveth  life.”  The  Apostle  in  these  verses  unfolds  the 
great  secret  both  of  ministerial  call  and  of  ministerial 


\ 


70  THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 

efficiency.  It  is  God,  not  man,  that  makes,  not  finds, 
aide  ministers  of  the  Hew  Testament.  Tlie  tones  of  his 
voice  are  lieard,  saying  to  tliem,  “  Son,  go  work  to-day 
in  my  vineyard.”  And  it  is  a  remarkable  fact,  one 
which  we  should  never  forget,  that  this  voice  is  never 
heard  in  a  heart  where  there  is  no  faith  ;  consequently, 
the  prime  qualification  for  a  minister  of  the  Christian 
religion  is  the  heart  that  has  been  melted  by  its  love, 
and  a  consciousness  which  has  felt  it  in  its  power. 
Without  this,  all  else  is  unavailing ;  the  attainment  of 
the  most  profound  and  extensive  knowledge,  the  grasp 
of  the  loftiest  and  most  scholarly  intellect,  the  posses¬ 
sion  of  the  most  commanding  eloquence,  the  treasures 
of  the  most  imperial  fancy,  the  research  of  the  most 
accomplished  scholar,  all  these  are  useless,  worse  than 
useless,  if  they  be  not  consecrated  by  the  Spirit  of  the 
Holy  One ;  only  the  trappings  that  decorate  the  traitor, 
and  make  his  treason  yet  the  fouler ;  only  the  weapons 
of  more  imminent  danger,  and  the  portents  of  more 
terrific  and  appalling  ruin.  The  most  distinguished 
minister  within  the  compass  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
however  eminent  he  may  be,  however  signally  his 
labors  have  been  blessed,  has  reason  to  remember, 
every  moment  of  his  ministerial  career,  “I  am  nothing, 
less  than  nothing;  but  my  sufficiency  is  of  God.”  The 
comfortable  and  scriptural  doctrine  contained  in  the 
text  is  not  more  true  of  ministers,  of  whom  it  was 
immediately  spoken,  than  of  Christians  in  general,  to 
whom  it  may  be  properly  applied.  The  station  is 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


71 


different,  the  strength  is  the  same.  Your  suffi¬ 
ciency,  as  well  as  ours,  is  of  God.  To  take  the 
words  in  this  extended  sense,  we  may  find  in  them 
matter  of  profitable  meditation,  by  considering  first 
the  nature  of  this  sufficiency  and  then  the  authority 
which  believers  have  to  expect  this  sufficiency  for 
themselves. 

I.  First,  the  sufficiency  of  God  may  be  considered 
either  as  proper,  or  communicated.  By  his  essential,  or 
proper  sufficiency,  we  mean  that  he  is  self-existent,  self- 
sufficient,  independently  happy ;  angels  and  men  may 
declare  that  they  cannot  increase  his  glory ;  it  is  eter¬ 
nal,  underived,  perfect.  He  has  said  that  he  will  never 
give  it  to  another.  There  was  no  necessity  in  his 
nature  impelling  him  to  create  the  universe ;  he  could 
have  existed  alone,  and  he  did  exist  alone,  long  be¬ 
fore  the  everlasting  silence  was  broken  by  a  human 
footstep,  or  interrupted  by  a  human  voice ;  and  that 
Divine  solitude  was  the  solitude  of  matchless  happiness. 
The  best  praises,  therefore,  the  most  extensive  services 
of  his  worshippers,  are  but  reflections  of  the  glory 
which  dwells  originally  in  himself.  But  it  is  of  the 
sufficiency  of  God  in  relation  to  his  creatures  that  it  is 
our  province  especially  to  speak.  And  it  is  in  this 
sense  God  is  good  to  all,  and  his  tender  mercies  are 
over  all  his  works. 

1.  He  is  sufficient,  in  the  first  place — let  us  take  low 
ground  first— -for  the  preservation  of  the  universe  which 
his  hands  have  made .  From  the  sublime  account 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


72 

which  the  Scriptures  give  us  of  creation,  we  learn  that 
the  heavens  were  made  by  him,  and  all  the  host  of 
them  hy  the  breath  of  his  mouth  ;  and  as  we  know  that 
nothing  earthly  has  within  it  the  power  to  sustain  itself, 
we  are  further  assured  that  he  uplioldeth  all  things  by 
the  same  word  of  his  power.  It  is  by  this  ever-breath¬ 
ing  word,  constantly  in  exercise,  that  the  sun  shines, 
that  the  moon  walks  in  brightness,  that  the  stars  pursue 
their  courses  in  the  sky ;  the  clouds  are  marshalled  by 
his  Divine  decree,  and  when  he  uttereth  his  voice  there 
is  a  multitude  of  waters  in  the  heavens.  Reason  looks 
at  this  systematic  and  continuous  regularity,  and 
admires  it,  and  refers  it  to  the  operation  of  second 
causes,  and  argues  very  philosophically  about  the 
nature  and  fitness  of  things ;  but  piety  looks  through 
the  complications  of  the  mechanism  to  the  hand  that 
formed  it.  The  universe  is  to  her  but  one  vast  trans¬ 
parency,  through  which  she  can  gaze  on  God ;  her 
pathway  and  her  communion  are  on  the  high  places  of 
creation,  and  there,  far  above  all  secondary  and  sub¬ 
ordinate  agencies,  she  discovers  the  hiding  of  his  power. 
The  symmetry  of  nature  is  to  her  more  beautiful, 
because  God  has  produced  it.  The  deep  harmonies  of 
the  systems  come  more  tunefully  upon  her  ear  because 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  has  awakened  them. 

“  What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amid  the  radiant  orbs  be  found? 

In  faith’s  quick  ear  they  all  rejoice, 

And  utter  forth  a  noble  voice, 


THE  BELIEVERS  SUFFICIENCY. 


73 


For  ever  singing  as  they  shine, 

1  The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine.’  ” 

And  what  a  contemplation  does  this  open  to  us  of  the 
majesty  and  power  of  God!  Who  can  understand  it? 
The  planets  are  kept  in  their  orbits,  and  the  seasons 
continually  alternate.  Old  Ocean  dashes  himself  upon 
the  shore,  and  every  day  finds  “  hitherto  ”  written  upon 
the  sand,  and  the  mad  surge  respects  it.  The  earth 
yields  her  increase  ;  vegetable  life  is  evolved  ;  circula¬ 
tion  takes  place  throughout  the  animal  system ;  man 
walks  and  lives,  and  all  these  diversified  operations  are 
produced  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  perpetuated 
from  one  moment  to  another  by  the  simple  word  of 
God.  Extend  your  conceptions  still  further ;  take  hold 
of  the  far-reaching  discoveries  of  astronomy.  Glance 
at  the  numberless  suns  and  systems  that  arc  scattered 
in  the  broad  field  of  immensity,  and  remember  (for 
there  is  no  Scripture  against  it,  and  probabilities  are 
strongly  in  favor  of  the  opinion),  that  they  are  all  in¬ 
habited  by  dependent  creatures  somewhat  like  our¬ 
selves.  Glance  at  the  almost  infinite  variety  of  exist¬ 
ences  with  which  we  are  acquainted — whether  we  walk 
the  earth,  or  cleave  the  air,  or  swim  the  sea — connect 
with  all  these  the  Scriptural  announcement  that  these 
are  but  parts  of  his  ways,  and  how  little  a  portion  is 
known  of  them ;  and  then  how  thought  shrinks  from 
the  aggregate  !  how  the  brain  recoils  from  the  contem¬ 
plation  of  the  sum !  and  we  may  well  finish  the  quota¬ 
tion,  and  say,  “The  thunder  of  his  power,  who  can 

4 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


74 

understand?”  All  our  reasonings  upon  the  subject 
only  serve  to  demonstrate  that  man  by  searching  can¬ 
not  find  out  God.  Could  you,  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
sunbeam,  dart  yourselves  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
known  creation,  and  for  ages  upon  ages  continue  your 
pilgrimage  in  infinite  space,  you  would  never — who  can 
grasp  that  thought?  it  is  too  large  for  us — never  be  able 
to  reach  a  place  where  God  is  not,  never  light  upon  a 
spot  where  this  glorious  Being  is  not  essentially  and 
influentially  present.  The  whole  universe  is  one  vast 
laboratory  of  benevolent  art,  over  every  department  of 
which  the  Deity  presides — a  sanctuary,  every  part  of 
which  the  Divinity  inhabits — a  circle,  whose  circumfe¬ 
rence  is  unfathomed,  and  whose  every  section  is  filled 
with  God.  But  I  stop  here  just  for  a  moment,  to  re¬ 
mind  you  of  the  thrill  that  comes  through  the  heart  of 
the  believer,  when,  after  this  exhibition  of  boundless 
and  colossal  power,  he  can  go  home,  singing — 

“  This  all-sufficient  God  is  ours, 

Our  Father,  and  our  love.'’ 


Our  sufficiency  is  of  God. 

2.  Then,  secondly,  and  chiefly,  he  is  sufficient  for  the 
preservation  and  for  the  perpetuity  of  the  Gospel  plan , 
in  the  salvation  and  ultimate  happiness  of  every  indi¬ 
vidual  believer.  Christianity  is  not  to  be  viewed  by  us 
merely  as  a  moral  system ;  that  were  to  place  it  on  a 
level  with  the  speculations  of  Confucius,  and  Socrates, 
and  others.  It  is  somethimr  more,  it  is  a  course  of 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


75 


Divine  operations.  "W  e  are  not  to  regard  it  as  a  mere 
etliical  statement  of  doctrine  made  known  to  us  by  a 
bundle  of  books  ;  we  must  remember  the  Divine 
agency  always,  by  which  it  is  conducted  and  inspired. 
We  observed  before,  that  no  mere  man  has  the  power 
to  produce  an  abiding  change  upon  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers.  Human  eloquence  is  a  mighty  thing,  I  know ; 
human  reason  is  a  persuasive  and  powerful  thing,  I 
know;  under  certain  favorable  conjunctures  of  circum¬ 
stances,  they  have  sometimes  achieved  mighty  results. 
They  can  shame  a  Herod,  they  can  make  a  Felix  trem¬ 
ble,  they  can  almost  persuade  an  Agrippa  to  become  a 
Christian,  but  they  can  do  no  more.  I  know  that  im¬ 
mense  multitudes  have  been  swayed  by  the  power  of  a 
single  tongue.  The  passions  have  become  excited, 
either  to  madness  or  to  sympathy,  either  to  deeds  of 
lawless  aggression,  or  to  deeds  of  high  emprise ;  but 
then  there  is  only  a  transient  mastery  obtained.  We 
read  of  a  harp  in  the  classical  fables  of  old,  which, 
when  the  winds  swept  it,  was  said  to  discourse  sweet 
strains ;  but  then,  unhappily,  the  breeze  and  the  music 
died  away  together.  So  it  is  with  the  triumph  of  the 
orator :  the  moment  the  voice  of  the  speaker  ceases  the 
spell  is  broken,  the  charm  is  dissipated;  reflection 
begins  to  remonstrate  against  excitement,  and  the  whole 
affair  is  forgotten,  or  comes  upon  the  soul  only  as  the 
memory  of  some  pleasant  song.  Hay,  truth,  celestial 
truth,  can  produce  nd  abiding  change.  Pardon  and 
sanctification  are  not  the  necessary  consequences  of 


76 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


statements  of  doctrine.  Scripture  cannot  produce 
them ;  the  truth  may  appear  in  all  its  cogency  and  in 
all  its  power  before  the  mind — it  may  appear  so  clear 
as  to  extort  an  acquiescence  in  what  it  propounds ;  but 
it  is  nn influential ;  it  lacks  energy,  and  it  lacks  a  seli- 
appliant  power.  It  may  enlighten — that  is  its  province 
— it  can  never  save.  Without  the  Spirit  it  is  useless ; 
let  the  Spirit  animate  it,  and  it  is  the  power  of  God. 
Hearers  who  sit  under  the  ministrations  of  the  truth 
without  the  Spirit  may  be  likened  to  a  man  standing 
upon  the  brow  of  a  hill  which  commands  the  prospect 
of  an  extensive  landscape.  The  varied  beauties  of  flood 
and  of  field  are  before  him ;  nature  is  clad  in  her  richest 
livery,  there  is  every  variety  calculated  to  interest  and 
to  inspire ;  rugged  rocks  frown  as  if  they  would  keep 
sentinel  over  the  sleeping  valley ;  the  earth  yields  her 
increase,  the  crystal  streamlet  leaps  merrily  along,  im¬ 
pressions  of  the  beautiful  are  everywhere  visible,  there 
is  just  one  drawback  to  the  picture,  and  that  one  draw¬ 
back  is,  that  the  man  who  stands  upon  the  summit  of 
the  hill  is  blind.  That  is  precisely  the  state  of  the  case 
in  reference  to  truth  in  the  Bible.  It  is  there  in  all  its 
grandeur,  but  the  man  has  no  eyes  to  see  it.  Let  the 
Spirit  come  and  take  the  scales  away  and  shred  off  the 
spiritual  ophthalmia,  and  he  sees  the  landscape  stretch¬ 
ing  before  him  in  all  its  hues  of  beauty,  and  his  soul  is 
elevated  and  he  feels  the  full  rapture  of  the  scene. 
Prevailing  truth,  therefore,  is  not  of  the  letter  but  of 
the  Spirit,  for  “the  letter  killeth,  but  the  Spirit  givcth 


the  believer’s  sufficiency. 


77 


life.”  This  Spirit  it  is  that  is  promised  for  the  carrying 
out  of  the  Gospel,  and  it  therefore  must  he  successful. 
I  know  there  is  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  about  his  mode 
of  procedure  :  God’s  word  must  be  fulfilled,  that  is  one 
thing ;  man’s  freedom  must  be  maintained,  that  is 
another  thing.  Man  is  a  moral  agent;  God  has  en¬ 
dued  him  with  talents  and  invested  him  with  an  im¬ 
mense  delegation  of  power,  and  in  the  distribution  of 
these  talents  and  in  the  exercise  of  that  power,  he  has 
said,  in  effect,  Let  him  alone ;  he  may  do  as  he  lists — 
j  ust  as  he  lists.  lie  is  allowed,  for  the  present,  to  act 
as  if  he  had  no  superior,  but  for  all  he  is  holden  finally 
most  strictly  responsible.  But  no  coercion  is  applied, 
no  force  is  ever  in  any  conceivable  instance  made  use 
of.  One  of  our  most  eloquent  senators  once  said,  that 
an  Englishman’s  cottage  was  his  castle.  The  winds 
may  whistle  through  every  crevice,  and  the  rains  pene¬ 
trate  through  every  cranny,  but  into  that  cottage  the 
monarch  of  England  dare  not  enter  against  the  cotter’s 
will.  That  is  just  the  state  of  the  case  between  Christ 
and  the  human  soul.  lie  has  such  a  res]iect  for  the 
will  of  that  immortal  tenant  that  he  has  placed  within 
us,  that  he  will  never  force  an  entrance.  ITe  will  do 
everything  else ;  he  will  knock  at  the  door — 

“  He  now  stands  knocking  at  the  door 
Of  every  sinner’s  heart ; 

The  worst  need  keep  him  out  no  more, 

Nor  force  him  to  depart.” 

But  he  will  not  force  an  entrance.  Often,  disappointed 


78  the  believek’s  sufeiciency. 

and  grieved,  lie  turns  away  from  those  whom  he  'would 
fain  have  enriched  and  saved,  saying,  “Ye  will  not 
come  unto  me,  that  ye  may  have  life.”  But  notwith¬ 
standing  all  this  formidable  opposition,  the  Gospel,  as 
the  administration  of  God’s  truth,  bached  by  the  energy 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  shall  finally  triumph.  We  can  con¬ 
ceive  of  no  enemies  more  subtle,  more  malignant,  more 
powerful  than  those  which  it  has  already  encountered 
and  vanquished.  Memory  cheers  us  onward  and  bids 
hope  to  smile.  God  is  with  the  Gospel ;  that  is  the 
great  secret.  She  does  not  trust  in  her  inherent  energy  ; 
she  does  not  trust  in  her  exquisite  adaptation  to  man’s 
every  necessity  and  peril ;  she  does  not  trust  in  the  in¬ 
defatigable  and  self-denying  labors  of  her  ministers ; 
God  is  with  the  Gospel,  and  under  his  guidance  she 
shall  march  triumphantly  forward,  subjugating  every 
enemy,  acquiring  a  lodgment  in  every  heart,  reclaim¬ 
ing  the  world  unto  herself,  until  she  has  consummated 
her  victory  in  the  ecstasies  of  a  renovated  universe,  and 
in  that  deep  and  solemn  moment  when  the  Son,  who 
gave  his  life  a  ransom  for  all,  shall  see  of  the  travail  of 
his  soul  and  be  abundantly  satisfied.  O  brethren !  what 
a  comfortable  doctrine  is  this !  If  this  Gospel  is  to  bo 
conducted  from  step  to  step  in  its  progressive  march  to 
conquest,  do  you  not  see  how  it  guarantees  individual 
salvation  and  individual  defence  by  the  way? 

Where  art  thou  in  the  chapel  to-night  (would  that 
I  could  discover  thee  !)  timid  and  discouraged  believer 
who  art  afraid  of  the  fatigues  of  climbin<z  the  Hill 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY.  79 

Difficulty,  and  croucliest  back  abashed  and  cowering 
at  sight  of  the  lions  in  front  of  the  Palace  Beautiful  ? 
Lift  up  thy  head,  be  not  discouraged ;  thy  sufficiency 
is  of  God.  What  frightens  thee ?  Affliction?  God  is 
thy  help.  Persecution  ?  God  is  thy  crown.  Perplex¬ 
ity  ?  God  is  thy  counsel.  Death  ?  God  is  thy  ever¬ 
lasting  life.  Only  trust  in  God,  and  all  shall  be  well. 
Life  shall  glide  thee  into  death,  and  death  shall  glide 
thee  into  heaven.  “"Who  (asks  the  exulting  Apostle, 
in  the  8th  of  Romans),  who  shall  separate  us  from  the 

love  of  Christ?  Shall  tribulation,  or  distress,  or  famine, 

\ 

or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or  sword?”  That  is  rather  a 
dark  catalogue ;  but  mark  how  the  Apostle  answers  it : 
“Ray,  in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than  conquer¬ 
ors.”  It  is  not  a  drawn  battle ;  night  does  not  come 
on  to  separate  the  combatants ;  we  have  not  to  send  a 
herald,  as  they  used  to  do  in  ancient  warfare,  to  ask 
permission  to  bury  our  dead  ;  we  do  not  come  from  the 
field  with  the  dishonored  banner  trailing  in  the  dust, 
and  the  armor  hacked,  scarred  with  the  wounds  we 
have  gotten  in  the  fight.  “We  are  more  than  con¬ 
querors.”  Oh,  the  royalty  of  that  language! — “more 
than  conquerors,  through  him  that  hath  loved  us.  For 
I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death” — he  puts  that  first, 
because  it  generally  threatens  believers  most — “  neither 
life,”  which  is  really  a  more  solemn  and  a  more  peril¬ 
ous  thing  than  death,  rightly  considered  —  “neither 
death,  nor  life,  nor  angels” — if  any  of  them  should  for¬ 
get  themselves  so  far  as  to  come  and  preach  another 


80 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


Gospel  and  try  to  deceive  the  very  elect — “  neither 
principalities  nor  powers  ” — for  although  the  captain 
of  the  hosts  of  darkness  may  plant  all  his  most  for¬ 
midable  battery  against  us,  he  cannot  shake  the  pali¬ 
sades  of  strong  salvation,  nor  snatch  away  a  solitary 
sheep  from  the  fold  of  the  great  Shepherd,  “bio,  nor 
things  present” — though  those  things  present  may  in¬ 
clude  famine,  nakedness,  peril,  and  sword — “no,  nor 
things  to  come” — though,  in  those  things  to  come, 
there  may  be  an  originality  of  diabolism  never  dreamed 
of  yet — “  and  no  creature” — nothing  blit  sin,  and  that 
is  not  a  creature,  that  is  a  foul  excrescence,  a  vile  abor¬ 
tion  upon  the  universe  of  God — keep  clear  of  that — and 
“no  creature  shall  be  able  to  separate  you  from  the 
love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord.”  Oh, 
the  blessedness,  the  ineffable  blessedness  of  being  in 
the  love  of  God !  The  blessedness  of  an  approving 
conscience,  the  blessedness  of  increasing  knowledge, 
the  blessedness  of  complete  victory,  the  blessedness  of 
Gospel  peace,  the  blessedness  of  perfect  love  !  I  do 
not  know  what  that  sea  of  glass  means  about  which  we 
read  in  the  Revelation ;  I  do  not  pretend  to  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  Apocalyptic  disclosures ;  but  I  know 
nothing  that  can  better  image  the  deep,  serene,  repos¬ 
ing,  kingly  rapture  of  the  spirit  that  has  finished  its 
course  with  joy.  It  is  a  sea  of  glass;  it  hath  no  bil¬ 
lows;  not  a  breath  ever,  by  any  possibility,  ruffles  it. 
And  on  this  sea  of  glass,  as  on  a  wide  and  waveless 
ocean,  the  believer  stands  forever,  chanting  eternally 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


81 


the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb.  Oh,  lift  up  your 
heads  and  come  back  to  Zion  with  singing,  and  let  this 
be  the  burden  of  your  song  : 

'*  Let  doubt,  then,  and  danger  my  progress  oppose, 

They  only  make  heaven  more  sweet  at  the  close  ; 

Afflictions  may  damp  me,  they  cannot  destroy, 

For  one  glimpse  of  His  love  turns  them  all  into  joy. 

And  come  joy,  or  come  sorrow,  whate’er  may  befall, 

One  hour  with  my  God  will  make  up  for  it  all.” 

It  were  very  little  use  our  talking  in  this  strain  to 
you,  if  you  were  to  find  out,  after  all,  that  it  was  some 
aristocratical  blessing,  some  privilege  reserved  only  for 
the  peerage  of  the  faithful,  for  the  favored  ones  in  the 
family  of  the  King  of  kings. 

H.  I  come,  secondly,  to  notice  the  authority  which 

BELIEVERS  nAVE  TO  EXPECT  THIS  SUFFICIENCY  FOR  THEM¬ 
SELVES.  And,  very  briefly,  we  have  a  right  to  '■expect 
it,  because  it  is  found  and  promised  in  the  Bible. 
Every  believer,  the  moment  he  becomes  a  believer, 
becomes  an  inheritor  of  the  promises.  The  Bible  is 
not  my  Bible,  nor  your  Bible — it  is  our  Bible.  It  is 
common  property ;  it  belongs  to  the  universal  Church. 
We  have  no  sympathy,  of  course,  with  those  who 
would  monopolize  this  sacred  treasure,  and  keep  this 
light  of  the  Gospel  burning,  and  that,  with  a  precious 
dimness,  only  in  the  study  of  the  priest,  or  fettered,  as 
it  used  to  be,  like  a  curiosity,  to  the  altars  of  the 
Church.  Thank  God,  these  days  of  darkness  are  for- 

*4 


82 


TriK  believer’s  sufeiciencv. 


ever  gone  by.  And  yet  there  is  a  Church,  somewhere, 
professedly  Christian,  which  denies  to  its  members  the 
light  and  comfort  of  the  Bible,  in  direct  opposition  to 
the  command  of  Him  who  has  said  to  every  one, 
“  Search  the  Scriptures,”  thus  most  absolutely  exalting 
itself  against  all  that  is  called  God.  Oh,  most  foul 
corruption  !  Deprive  us  of  the  Bible  !  As  well  forbid 
us  to  gaze  on  the  jewelled  sky,  or  to  be  fanned  by  the 
winged  and  searching  air.  Deprive  us  of  the  Bible  ! 
Call  it  sin  for  us  to  look  at  the  sun,  and  to  bask  in  the 
blaze  of  his  enlivening  beams.  The  very  same  hand 
which  launched  yon  orb  upon  his  ocean  of  light,  and 
bade  him  shine  upon  the  evil  and  upon  the  good,  has 
sent  this  orb  into  the  world,  and  has  sent  it  on  purpose 
that  it  may  be  a  lamp  to  all  our  feet  and  a  lantern  to 
all  our  paths.  We  devoutly  thank  the  good  Spirit  of 
the  Lord,  that  he  put  into  the  minds  of  our  forefathers 
to  protest  against  so  flagrant  and  monstrous  an  im¬ 
piety;  and,  thank  God,  we  are  Protest- ants  still.  We 
cannot  afford  to  be  thus  robbed  of  our  birthright,  to 
be  thus  cheated  out  of  our  inheritance,  to  be  thus 
basely  swindled  out  of  the  possession  of  the  Book  of 
God.  It  is  the  legacy  of  the  Apostles’  labor ;  the  bul¬ 
wark  of  the  confessors’  faith ;  the  purchase  of  the  mar¬ 
tyrs’  blood.'  Thank  God  for  the  Bible.  Let  us  prove 
that  we  love  it,  by  drawing  from  it  all  the  comfort  and 
blessing,  and  guidance,  and  warning,  which  its  heaven- 
inspired  pages  are  calculated  to  afford.  Well,  we  have 
a  right,  each  of  us — if  we  are  in  Christ — we  have  a 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


83 


right  to  expect  this  sufficiency,  because  it  is  promised 
in  the  Bible.  "We  gather  it  from  the  declarations  of 
Scripture.  Listen  to  them,  they  are  yours :  “  Thus 
saith  the  Lord  who  created  thee,  O  Jacob,  who  formed 
thee,  O  Israel,  Fear  not,  I  have  redeemed  thee,  I  have 
called  thee  by  thy  name.”  What  a  beautiful  thought 
that  is!  Just  get  the  meaning  and  beauty  out  of  it. 
How  many  thousands  of  believers,  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  believers,  have  there  been  in  the  world 
from  the  beginning  of  its  history  until  now — thousands 
in  the  patriarchal  ages  who  looked  through  the  glass, 
and  who  saw,  dimly,  the  streak  of  the  morning  in  the 
distance,  and,  even  with  that  streak  of  light,  were  glad 
— thousands,  in  the  prophetical  times,  who  discerned  it 
in  the  brightness  of  a  nearer  vision— thousands  who 
basked  in  its  full-orbed  lustre,  when  Christ  came  into 
the  world — thousands  upon  thousands,  since  that  time, 
who  have  washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb — thousands,  who  are  now  upon 
the  earth,  working  out  their  salvation  with  fear  and 
trembling — thousands  upon  thousands  that  shall  come 
into  the  Church  in  the  time  of  its  millennial  glory, 
when  the  gates  of  it  shall  not  be  shut  day  nor  night, 
because  the  porter  shall  have  no  chance  of  shutting 
them,  the  people  crowd  in  so  fast.  How,  get  all  that 
mass  of  believers,  past,  present,  and  future,  a  company 
that  no  man  can  number ;  and  to  each  of  them  God 
comes  in  this  promise,  and  says,  u  I  have  called  thee 
by  thy  name,  I  know  all  about  thee*  — that  is,  I  have 


84 


the  believer’s  sufficiency. 


not  a  merely  vague,  indefinite  knowledge  of  tkee ;  as 
an  individual  believer  I  know  tliy  name,  I  could  single 
thee  out  of  millions,  I  could  tell  the  world  all  thy  soli¬ 
citudes,  and  all  thy  apprehensions,  and  all  thy  hopes, 
and  all  thy  sorrows — “I  have  called  thee  by  thy  name.” 
Oh,  precious  promise !  Take  it  to  your  hearts.  “  I 
have  called  thee  by  thy  name ;  thou  art  mine  ;  when 
thou  passest  through  the  waters  I  will  be  with  thee ; 
and  through  the  rivers” — deeper  than  the  waters — 
“  they  shall  not  overflow  thee.  When  thou  walkest 
through  the  fire  thou  slialt  not  be  burned,  neither  shall 
the  flames  kindle  upon  thee.”  Listen  again :  “  The 
Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  a  shield’2* — light  and  protection  ; 
that  nearly  embraces  all  our  wants — “  he  will  give 
grace  and  glory.”  Is  there  anything  left  out  ?  And 
if  there  are  any  of  you  so  perversely  clever  and  so  mis¬ 
chievously  ingenious  in  multiplying  arguments  in  favor 
of  your  own  despair,  that  you  can  conceive  of  some 
rare  and  precious  blessing  that  is  not  vTrapped  up 
either  in  grace  or  glory — “  ISTo  good  thing  will  he 
withhold  from  them  that  walk  uprightly.”  “Fear 
not,  for  I  am  with  thee  ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am 
thy  God.”  “Cast  all  thy  care” — “Hay,”  the  rebel 
heart  says,  “there  is  some  little  of  it  I  must  bear 
myself;  something  that  has  reference  to  the  heart’s 
bitterness,  that  it  alone  knoweth ;  or  to  the  heart’s 
deep,  dark  sorrow,  with  which  no  stranger  intermed¬ 
dles — that  I  must  bear  myself.”  “  Cast  all  thy  care 
upon  me,  for  I  care  for  thee.”  ,  What !  distrustful  still  ? 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


85 


Can  you  not  take  God  at  his  word  ?  Hark !  he  con¬ 
descends  to  expostulate  with  you  upon  your  unbelief : 
“Why  sayest  thou,  O  Jacob,  and  speakest,  O  Israel, 
my  way  is  hid  from  the  Lord” — how  often  have  you 
said  that  in  the  time  of  your  sorrow !  you  know  you 
have — “my  way  is  hid  from  the  Lord,  my  judgment 
is  passed  over  from  my  God.  Hast  thou  not  known, 
hast  thou  not  heard,  that  the  everlasting  God,  the 
Lord,  the  Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not, 
neither  is  weary  ?  There  is  no  searching  of  his  under¬ 
standing.  He  givetli  power  to  the  faint.”  Lie  does 
not  merely  take  his  swoon  away  and  leave  him  wreakly, 
he  makes  him  strong.  “  He  givetli  power  to  the  faint ; 
and  to  them  that  have  no  might  he  increasetli  strength.” 
Are  you  still  dissatisfied  ? 

The  God  who  knows  human  nature,  knows  how  much 
better  a  teacher  example  is  than  precept,  and  so,  spark¬ 
ling  upon  the  pages  of  his  holy  truth,  he  has  left  us 
many  bright  instances  of  his  interposition  on  behalf  of 
his  saints.  Abraham  rises  early  in  the  morning,  goes  a 
three  days’  journey  with  the  son  of  his  love,  intending 
all  the  while,  with  set  and  resolute  purpose,  to  offer  him 
in  sacrifice  to  the  God  of  heaven.  Arrived  at  the  place 
of  their  destination,  all  the  ritual  preparations  are  made: 
the  altar  is  prepared  ;  the  willing  victim,  unresisting,  is 
bound  ;  the  sacrificial  knife  is  lifted ;  no  escape,  then, 
surely  !  But  man’s  extremity  is  God’s  opportunity,  and 
the  ram  is  caught  in  the  thicket  by  its  horns,  and  God’s 
grace  is  sufficient — none  too  much — but  sufficient  still. 


86 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


The  children  of  Israel  are  brought  to  the  borders  of  the 
Red  Sea,  hotly  pursued  by  the  flower  of  the  Egyptian 
army  ;  the  troops  are  close  upon  them  in  the  rear  ;  the 
Red  Sea  stretches  before  them — the  inaccessible  hills  of 
Baal-Zephon  tower  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left. 
What  are  they  to  do  ?  There  seems  no  possible  chance 
of  escape.  Oh  !  what  are  the  laws  of  gravitation  when 
the  Lord  works  for  his  people  1  He  who  made  them  can 
alter  them  at  pleasure.  The  waters  erect  themselves  on 
either  hand,  and  the  bed  of  the  ocean  is  their  triumphal 
pathway.  God’s  grace  is  sufficient  still.  Neliemiah, 
like  a  true-hearted  patriot  as  he  was,  set  to  work  to 
rebuild  the  dilapidated  walls  of  Jerusalem.  But  he 
began,  like  some  of  his  successors,  in  troublous  times ; 
Sanballat  and  Tobiah  came  to  fight  against  the  workmen ; 
they  were  so  hard  beset,  that  they  had  to  work  with 
sword  in  the  one  hand  and  trowel  in  the  other ;  God’s 
grace  was  sufficient,  and  the  second  Jerusalem  rose  up 
in  majesty  upon  the  site  of  the  ruins  of  the  first. 
What !  not  satisfied  yet  ?  Surely  that  must  be  an 
almost  invincible  unbelief  that  these  instances  will  not 
overcome.  What  is  it  you  say  ?  “  Oh,  but  these  are 

all  instances  taken  from  the  Old  Testament  times  ;  the 
age  of  miracles  is  over  now — we  are  not  now  to  expect 
such  interpositions  on  behalf  of  God’s  people.”  Well, 
let  us  try  again.  Come  out  of  the  light  of  Scripture  a 
little  into  the  light  of  common  life.  Tread  softly,  as  you 
enter  that  house,  for  it  is  a  house  of  mourning  ;  a  large 
family  surround  the  bedside  of. a  dying  parent;  that 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


87 


parent  is  a  Christian,  and  knowing  in  whom  he  has 
believed,  he  is  not  afraid  to  die.  But  he  has  a  large 
family,  and  the  thought  that  he  shall  leave  them  with¬ 
out  a  protector,  the  thought  of  the  forcible  disruption 
of  all  social  ties,  presses  upon  his  spirit,  and  when  you 
look  at  him,  there  is  a  shade  of  sadness  upon  his  coun¬ 
tenance  ;  but  you  gaze  awhile,  and  you  see  that  sadness 
chased  away  by  a  smile.  What  'has  wrought  the 
change  ?  What  ?  Why,  a  ministering  angel  whispered 
to  him :  “  Leave  thy  fatherless  children ;  I  will  preserve 
them  alive.”  He  hails  the  promiser.  Faith  cries  out: 
“  It  is  he,  it  is  he ;  my  God  is  present  here.”  He 
enjoys  rapt  and  high  communion  with  celestial  visit¬ 
ants,  and  thus  that  chamber  of  death  becomes  the  gate 
of  heaven.  You  pass  by  that  house  next  morning:  the 
half-closed  shutter  and  the  drawn  blind  tell  you  that  he 
was  and  is  not.  You  enter — the  widow  is  sitting  in  sor¬ 
row  ;  the  first  deep  pang  is  scarcely  over.  The  tones 
of  her  husband’s  voice,  with  which  she  has  so  long  been 
familiar,  rush,  in  all  the  freshness  of  yesterday,  upon 
her  soul,  and  she  is  wrorn  with  weeping.  But  she,  too, 
is  a  Christian,  and  she  flies  to  the  Christian’s  refuge,  and 
her  eye  traces  those  comfortable  words  :  u  Thy  Maker 
is  thine  husband — the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  his  name.”  It  is 
a  dark  hour  ;  it  has  been  a  dark  day  ;  and  the  darkness 
has  gathered,  and  settled,  and  deepened  as  the  day  wore 
on,  and  now  at  eventide  there  is  soft  and  brilliant  light, 
because  her  sufficiency  is  of  God.  You  pass  by  the 
house  again  when  about  a  week  has  elapsed.  The  last 


88 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


sad  rites  have  been  performed ;  the  funeral  bell,  with  its 
suppressed  and  heavy  summons,  sounding  like  the 
dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  body,  has  tolled;  the  very 
clay  of  her  husband  has  been  torn  from  her  embrace, 
lie  has  died  in  somewhat  straitened  circumstances ;  he 
was  the  sole  dependence  of  the  family,  and,  with  aching 
head  and  throbbing  heart,  she  sits  down  to  calculate 
about  her  future  subsistence  ;  her  heart  begins  to  fail 
her,  but,  before  she  gives  way  to  despair,  she  consults  a 
friend  ;  he  is  a  wise  man,  one  upon  whom  the  influences 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  have  operated  long ;  and  he  gives 
her  the  testimony  of  a  long  life  of  experience  :  “  I  have 
been  young,  and  now  am  old,  yet  I  have  not  seen  the 
righteous  forsaken,  nor  his  seed  begging  bread.”  Dash¬ 
ing  away  the  tears  that  had  blinded  her,  she  struggles 
and  labors  on,  and  feels  that  though  it  is  her  darkest 
hour,  her  sufflciency  is  still  of  God.  That  is  no  uncom¬ 
mon  case  ;  I  have  not  drawn  largely  upon  the  extrava¬ 
gance  of  an  imaginative  fancy  to  bring  it  out.  I  could 
go  into  many  of  our  sanctuaries  and  bid  you  listen  to 
one,  as  with  a  glad  heart  and  free,  he  sings  the  con¬ 
verted  sinner’s  anthem  :  “  O  Lord,  I  will  praise  thee  ; 
thou  wast  angry  with  me,  but  thine  anger  is  turned 
away,  and  now  thou  comfortest  me.”  Then  I  could  bid 
you  listen  to  the  experience  of  another,  but  faltering 
and  low,  for  he  is  just  recovering  from  recent  illness : 
“  I  was  brought  low,  and  he  helped  me  ;  he  saved  mo 
even  from  the  gates  of  death.”  And  then  we  could 
point  you  to  a  third,  and  say :  This  poor  man  cried, 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


89 


and  the  Lord  heard  him,  and  saved  him  out  of  all  his 
troubles.”  And  where  are  the  damnatory  clauses  that 
forbid  you  to  partake  of  these  blessings  ?  What  statute 
of  limitations  is  there  that  bars  you  from  the  enjoyment 
of  this  great  and  gracious  heritage  ?  Brethren,  are  you 
in  Christ  ?  Then  all  that  belongs  to  the  covenant  is 
yours.  Yours  is  the  present  heritage,  yours  is  the  future 
recompense  of  reward. 

“  Our  sufficiency  is  of  God.”  Is  it  so  ?  Then  you 
will  be  sustained  in  trial ;  you  won’t  succumb  to  its 
power  ;  it  won’t  over-master  you ;  you  will  regard  it  as 
sent  of  God,  intended  to  work  lessons  and  changes  of 
some  providential  discipline  within  you.  You  will  be 
grateful  for  it ;  you  will  know  that  when  it  comes, 
although  it  looks  harsh  and  repulsive  outside,  you  have 
entertained  angels  unawares,  you  will  find  after  it  has 
gone  away.  Oh !  we  learn  many  lessons  wdien  the 
head  is  low,  that  we  do  not  learn  in  the  heyday  of  pros¬ 
perity  and  blessing.  Just  as  it  is  in  the  natural  world: 
you  know  when  the  sun  is  set,  the  stars  come  out  in 
their  placid  beauty,  and 

“  Darkness  shows  us  worlds  of  light 
We  never  saw  by  day;” 

and  we  should  never  have  known  they  were  there  if  the 
darkness  had  not  come.  So  in  the  night  of  God’s  pro¬ 
vidential  dispensations,  the  stars  of  the  great  promises 
come  shining  out,  broad  and  bright  upon  the  soul ;  and 
we  rejoice  in  their  light  and  go  on  our  way  rejoicing. 


00 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


Or,  changing  the  figure,  in  the  glad  summer-time,  when 
the  leaves  are  on  the  trees,  we  go  out,  such  of  us  as  can 
get  into  the  country — we  go  out  into  the  thick  woods 
and  walk  under  the  trees  in  shadow,  and  their  branches 
interlace  above  us,  and  the  leaves  are  green  and  glossy, 
and  so  thick  above  that  we  cannot  see  the  sky  through ; 
and  then  we  forget  that  there  is  another  world,  and  our 
hearts  are  revelling  in  all  pleasure  and  all  blessedness 
of  this.  But  when  the  blasts  of  winter  come  and  scatter 
the  leaves  down,  then  the  light  of  heaven  comes  in 
between,  and  we  remember  that  here  we  have  no 
continuing  city,  and  are  urged  to  seek  one  that  is  to 
come.  Oh !  take  hold  of  God’s  sufficiency  then,  and 
go  bravely  to  the  meeting  of  trial,  and  you  will  find 
that  trial, 

“  God’s  alchemist  old, 

Purges  off  the  dross  and  mold 

And  leaves  us  rich  with  gems  and  gold.” 

Is  your  sufficiency  of  God  ?  Then  it  will  animate  you 
to  duty.  Listen  to  this  confession  of  weakness  :  “  Unto  * 
me,  who  am  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints,  is  this  grace 
given.”  Less  than  the  least !  What  a  pressure  of  weak¬ 
ness  there  must  have  been  upon  that  soul !  Listen  to 
this  exulting  consciousness  of  power:  “I  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  that  strengthened!  me.”  They 
are  the  antipodes  of  sentiment — are  they  not?  Weak¬ 
ness  the  most  helpless  and  feeble — power  the  most 
exultant  and  proud ;  and  yet  that  confession  of  weak¬ 
ness,  and  that  exulting  consciousness  of  power,  were  the 


TUE  BELIEVER’S  SUFFICIENCY. 


91 


utterance  of  the  same  lips,  and  the  expression  of  the 
experience  of  the  same  individual.  What  made  the 
difference  ?  In  the  one  case  he  relied  upon  his  own  re¬ 
sources  ;  in  the  other,  lie  took  hold  of  the  sufficiency  of 
God.  Take  hold  of  the  sufficiency  of  God,  and  nothing 
will  he  able  to  resist  you ;  you  will  go  forward  strong 
in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might,  overcoming 
sin  and  overcoming  evil  in  its  every  form,  and  planting 
for  yourself  and  for  your  Master  an  heritage  of  blessing 
in  this  world  and  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

“  Our  sufficiency  is  of  God.”  Is  there  a  poor  strag¬ 
gling  sinner  that  is  rejoicing  to  think  that  the  minister 
has  forgotten  him,  and  that  while  he  has  been  endeavor¬ 
ing  to  bring  out  all  the  heart  of  the  text — privilege  and 
promise  exceeding  great  and  precious,  for  the  benefit  of 
believers — no  word  of  warning  can  be  extracted  out  of 
it  for  those  that  are  yet  ungodly?  Wait  a  little. 
What  is  the  lesson  you  are  to  learn  from  the  sub¬ 
ject?  Just  this:  that  there  is  a  sufficiency  in  God  to 
punish.  All  his  attributes  must  be  equally  perfect. 
He  must  be  just,  as  well  as  the  free  and  generous 
justifier  of  him  that  believetli  in  Jesus.  Oh,  I  beseech 
you,  tempt  not  against  yourselves  that  wrath  which 
needs  only  to  be  kindled  in  order  to  burn  unto  the 
lowest  hell.  “Kiss  the  Son,  lest  he  be  angry,  and 
ye  perish  from  the  way.”  Perish  out  of  the  way — 
just  as  men  fling  away  any  obstacle  or  hindrance  that 
interrupts  their  progress,  so  shall  God  fling  the  wicked 
out  of  his  way.  “Kiss  the  Son,  lest  he  be  angry,  and 


92 


THE  BELIEVER’S  SDFFICIENCY. 


ye  perish  from  the  way,  when  his  wrath  is  kindled  hut 
a  little.  But  a  little — oh,  it  will  need  hut  a  little  kin¬ 
dling  to  doom  you  to  the  perdition  of  hell.  Brethren, 
you  need  not  perish  :  there  is  a  sufficiency,  thank  God ! 
there  is  a  sufficiency  in  Christ  to  save.  Our  sufficiency 
is  of  God.  And  with  this  promise  that  I  fling  forth 
into  the  midst  of  you,  and  pray  that  God  would  hind  it 
as  a  spell  of  sweet  enchantment  on  your  souls,  I  close 
my  words  to-night :  “  Wherefore  he  is  able  to  save  unto 
the  uttermost” — to  the  uttermost  of  human  guilt — to 
the  uttermost  of  human  life — to  the  uttermost  of  human 
time.  May  God  save  your  souls,  for  the  Redeemer’s 
sake ! 


III. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 

“  Therefore  seeing  we  have  this  ministry,  as  we  have  received  mercy, 
we  faint  not;  but  have  renounced  the  hidden  things  of  dishonesty,  not 
walking  in  craftiness,  nor  handling  the  word  of  God  deceitfully;  but  by 
manifestation  of  the  truth  commending  ourselves  to  every  man’s  con¬ 
science  in  the  sight  of  God.” — 2  Cor.  iv.  1,  2. 

This  is  the  Apostle’s  recorded  judgment  as  to  the 
mission  of  the  ministry  which  he  had  received  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  and  the  duties  of  which  he  discharged  with 
such  singular  fidelity  and  zeal.  In  the  preceding  chap¬ 
ter,  he  magnifies  its  superiority  alike  of  glory  and  of 
substantial  usefulness  over  the  dispensation  of  the  law, 
and  then  in  a  few  weighty  words  separates  himself  en¬ 
tirely  from  all  false  teachers,  and  establishes  himself, 
upon  the  ground  of  holy  character  and  exalted  office,  as 
Heaven’s  high  remembrancer  among  the  nations — a 
true  witness  for  God  amidst  a  dark  and  alien  world. 
He  takes  care,  at  the  very  outset,  to  assure  those  to 
whom  he  speaks,  that  he  is  of  the  same  nature,  and 
originally  of  the  same  sinfulness,  as  themselves  :  “  There¬ 
fore  seeing  that  we  have  received  this  ministry,  as  we 
have  received  mercy ,  we  faint  not.”  We  are  not — as  if 

93 


94 


THE  MISSION  OF  TIIE  PULPIT. 


he  had  said — a  distinct  order  of  beings:  there  is  no 
natural  superiority  of  character  which  might  make  the 
minister  proud,  or  which  might  make  the  hearer  distant, 
and  callous,  and  unsympatliizing.  We  once  were  sin¬ 
ners;  we  have  yet  the  memory  of  bondage;  we  have 
received  mercy,  and  are  anxious  to  tell  to  others  the 
tidings  that  have  led  to  our  redemption.  As  we  have 
received  mercy  we  faint  not,  but  have  renounced  the 
hidden  things  of  dishonesty,  the  secret  immoralities  of 
pagan  priests ;  not  walking  in  craftiness,  not  retaining 
our  hold  upon  the  consciences  of  men  by  deeeivableness 
of  unrighteousness,  and  by  juggling,  lying  wonders ;  not 
handling  the  Word  of  God  deceitfully,  not  preaching  an 
adulterated  truth  or  a  flexible  Gospel ;  not  pliant  to  the 
prejudices,  or  silent  to  the  vices  of  those  who  hear  us; 
“  but,  by  manifestation  of  the  truth,  commending  our¬ 
selves  to  every  man’s  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God.” 

All  this,  affirmed  by  the  Apostle  of  the  ministry  of 
olden  time,  may  be  affirmed  of  the  ministry  of  recon¬ 
ciliation  now.  That  ministry,  wickedly  maligned  on 
the  one  hand,  imperfectly  fulfilled  on  the  other  hand, 
has  yet  its  mission  to  the  world.  The  unrepealed  com¬ 
mand  still  stands  upon  the  statute-book :  “  Go  ye  into 
all  the  world,  and  preach  the  Gospel  unto  every  crea¬ 
ture.”  And  it  is  a  prayer  often  earnestly  and  passion¬ 
ately  uttered  by  those  on  whom  its  obligations  have 
fallen,  that,  repudiating  artifice  and  idleness,  they  may, 
by  manifestation  of  the  truth,  commend  themselves  to 
every  man’s  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God.  I  purpose. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


95 


God  helping  me,  briefly  to  notice  from  these  words — in 
the  first  place,  the  business  of  the  ministry ;  secondly, 
the  instrumentality  which  it  employs ;  and  thirdly,  the 
thought  that  hallows  it. 

I.  The  ministry — this  is  my  first  position — has  a  busi¬ 
ness  with  the  world.  It  is  the  Divinely-appointed 
agency  for  the  communication  of  God’s  will  to  man. 
As  a  Divine  institution  it  advanced  its  claims  in  the 
beginning,  and  in  no  solitary  instance  have  they  been 
relinquished  since.  This  Divine  authorization  and  en¬ 
actment  are  still  in  force.  The  Bible  says,  when  Christ 
ascended  up  on  high,  ahe  led  captivity  captive,  and 
received  gifts  for  men ;  and  he  gave  some  apostles,  and 
some  prophets,  and  some  evangelists,  and  some  pastors 
and  teachers,  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints,  for  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  edifying  of  the  body  of 
Christ.”  There  might  be  something  special,  perhaps,  in 
this  original  commission,  but  the  principle  of  its  Divine 
origin  is  evidently  presented  as  the  principle  of  the 
ministry  itself ;  for  St.  Paul,  who  wras  not  then  called, 
who  speaks  of  himself  afterward  as  one  born  out  of  due 
time,  earnestly  and  anxiously  vindicates  the  Heavenly 
origin  of  his  apostleship :  “  I  certify  you,  brethren,  that 
the  Gospel  which  w'as  preached  of  me  is  not  of  men ;  for 
I  neither  received  it  of  men,  neither  was  I  taught  it  but 
by  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ.”  This  it  is  which  is 
the  elevation  of  the  Christian  ministry,  which  exalts  it 
far  above  human  resources  and  human  authority.  It 
travels  on  in  its  own  majestic  strength — Ileaven-inspired 


96 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


and  heaven-sustained.  Moreover,  the  same  passage 
which  tells  us  of  the  institution  of  the  ministry  an¬ 
nounces  its  duration,  and  tells  of  the  period  when  it 
shall  he  no  longer  needed — till  we  all  come,  in  the  unity 
of  the  faith  and  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God, 
unto  a  perfect  man — unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of 
the  fullness  of  Christ. 

This  period,  thus  divinely  appointed  for  the  cessation 
of  the  ministry,  has  obviously  not  yet  arrived.  The 
world  sees  but  little  yet  of  millennial  glory ;  there  is 
yet  an  alienated  heart  in  its  debased  and  rebel  tribes ; 
there  is  nothing  in  the  pursuits  which  it  follows,  nor  in 
the  natural  impulses  which  move  it,  to  incite  to  holy 
aim  or  to  induce  spiritual  living.  It  has  no  self-sugges¬ 
tive  memory  of  God.  It  has  passions  as  blind  and 
powerful,  and  a  will  as  perverse  as  ever.  Death  is  in 
the  midst  of  it,  and,  though  the  corpse  may  be  some¬ 
times  embalmed  with  spices,  or  tricked  out  with  flowers, 
or  carried  ’  neath  obsequious  plumes  to  burial,  the  chill 
is  at  its  heart,  the  breath  of  the  plague  is  in  the  tainted 
air,  and  there  is  need,  strong  and  solemn  need,  for  the 
anointed  witness  who  may  stand  between  the  living  and 
the  dead,  that  the  plague  may  be  stayed.  There  are 
some,  I  know,  who  tell  us  that  the  mission  of  the  pulpit 
is  fulfilled.  They  acknowledge  that,  in  the  earlier 
ages,  in  the  times  of  comparative  darkness,  when  men 
spelt  out  the  truth  in  syllables,  it  did  a  noble  work ; 
but  the  world  has  outgrown  it,  they  tell  us ;  men  need 
neither  its  light  nor  its  warning  ;  the  all-powerful  Press 


'THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


97 


shall  direct  them,  the  educational  institute  shall  assist 
them  in  their  upward  progress,  they  shall  move  onward 
and  upward  under  the  guidance  of  the  common  mind. 
And,  while  this  is  the  cry  of  infidelity  and  indifferent- 
ism,  there  are  some  among  ourselves  who  have  partially 
yielded  to  the  clamor.  They  have  deplored  (as  who 
must  not  ?)  the  apparent  ineffectiveness  of  existing 
agencies,  the  feebleness  of  the  efforts  for  evangelical 
aggression,  and,  in  their  eagerness  to  conciliate  preju¬ 
dice  and  disarm  opposition,  they  have  compromised 
somewhat  the  high  tone  of  Christian  teaching,  and 
have  studiously  avoided  the  very  terminology  of  the 
Bible,  so  that  the  great  truths  of  God’s  will  and  man’s 
duty,  of  Christ’s  atonement  and  the  sinner’s  pardon,  of 
the  Spirit’s  work  and  the  believer’s  growth — those  old 
gospels  whose  sound  is  always  music  and  whose  sight  is 
always  joy,  are  hardly  to  be  recognized,  as  they  are 
hidden  beneath  profound  thought,  or  veiled  within 
affected  phrase.  But  the  Divine  institution  of  the 
ministry  is  not  to  be  thus  superseded.  It  has  to  do 
with  eternity,  and  the  matters  of  eternity  are  para¬ 
mount.  It  deals  and  would  grapple  with  the  inner 
man  ;  it  has  to  do  with  the  deepest  emotions  of  the 
nature,  with  those  instincts  of  internal  truths  which 
underlie  all  systems,  from  which  a  man  can  never 
utterly  divorce  himself,  and  which  God  himself  has 
graven  on  the  soul.  So  far  as  they  work  in  harmony 
with  its  high  purpose,  it  will  hail  the  helpings  of  all 
other  teaching ;  but  God  hath  given  it  the  monarchy, 


98 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


and  it  dare  not  abdicate  its  throne.  The  opposition 
that  you  sometimes  meet  with  of  worldliness  and  infi¬ 
delity  to  the  pulpit,  if  you  analyze  it,  you  find  that 
though  it  may  have  derived  from  the  oppressions  of 
priestcraft  in  bygone  ages  somewhat  of  plausibility  and 
force,  it  is  but  one  phase  of  the  method  in  which  the 
human  heart  discovers  its  rooted  and  apparently  uncon¬ 
querable  enmity  to  God.  Hence  it  is  one  of  the  worst 
symptoms  of  the  disease  which  the  ministry  has  been 
calculated  and  instituted  to  remove.  The  teaching  of 
the  political  agitator,  of  the  philanthropic  idealist,  of 
the  benevolent  instructor — why  are  they  so  popular  ? 
The  teaching  of  the  religious  minister — why  is  it  so 
repulsive  to  the  world  ?  Mainly  from  this  one  fact, 
that  the  one  reproves,  and  the  other  exalts  human 
nature — the  one  ignores,  the  other  insists  upon  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  Fall.  You  will  find,  in  all  the  schemes  for 
the  uplifting  of  man  not  grounded  on  the  Bible,  the 
exaltation  of  his  nature  as  it  is,  lofty  ideas  of  perfect¬ 
ibility,  assertions  that  it  needs  neither  revelation  nor 
heavenly  influence  to  guide  it  in  the  way  of  truth. 
Thus  the  Gospel  is  presented  only  as  one  among  many 
systems  which  all  men  may  accept  or  reject  at  pleasure. 
Its  restraints  are  deemed  impertinence,  its  reproofs 
unnatural  bondage.  The  talk  of  such  teaching  is  fre¬ 
quently  of  rights,  seldom  of  duties.  They  are  compli¬ 
mented  on  their  manliness  who  ought  to  be  humbled 
for  their  sin,  and,  by  insidious  panderings  to  their  pride, 
they  are  exhorted  to  atheism,  self-reliance,  or  habitual 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


99 


disregard  of  God.  Both  kinds  of  teaching,  the  worldly 
and  the  religious  alike,  aim  at  the  uplifting  of  the 
nature.  But  then  they  look  at  it  from  different  stand¬ 
points,  and,  of  course,  they  apply  to  it  different  treat¬ 
ment.  The  one  is  an  endeavor  to  exalt  the  nature 
without  God ;  the  other  would  take  hold  of  his  strength 
and  work  to  the  praise  of  his  glory.  The  one  regards 
humanity  as  it  once  was  before  sin  had  warped  it,  able 
to  tower  and  triumph  in  its  own  unaided  strength — the 
other  sees  it  decrepit  or  ailing,  the  whole  head  sick 
and  the  whole  heart  faint ;  and  yet,  by  the  halm  of 
Gilead,  to  be  restored  to  pristine  vigor.  The  one, 
deeming  that  no  confusion  has  come  upon  its  language, 
nor  shame  Upon  its  many  builders,  would  have  it  pile  up 
its  Babel  towers  until  they  smite  the  skies — the  other 
sees  the  towers  in  ruins,  splintered  shaft  and  crumbling 
arch  bearing  witness  that  they  were  once  beautiful 
exceedingly,  and  that  by  the  grace  and  skill  of  the 
heavenly  Architect,  they  may  grow  up  again  into  a 
holy  temple  in  the  Lord. 

It  is  absolutely  necessary,  in  this  age  of  manifold, 
activities  and  of  spiritual  pride,  that  there  should  be 
this  ever-speaking  witness  of  man’s  feebleness  and  of 
God’s  strength.  And,  however  much  the  opposition 
against  the  ministry  may  tell,  and  it  does  tell,  and  it 
ought  to  tell,  against  the  vapid  and  frivolous,  against 
the  idle  and  insincere,  it  is  a  powerful  motive  for  the 
institution  of  the  ministry  itself;  just  as  the  blast  that 
scatters  the  acorns,  roots  the  oak  the  more  firmly  in 


100 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


the  soil.  So  long  as  men  are  born  to  die,  so  long  as  tlie 
recording  angel  registers  human  guilt,  so  long  as  human 
responsibility  and  retribution  are  unheeded  truths,  so 
long  as  there  is  one  solitary  sinner  tempted  by  the 
black  adversary,  so  long  will  the  ministry  have  a  busi¬ 
ness  with  the  world ;  and  it  is  the  earnest  prayer  of 
those  who  have  undertaken  it  that  they  may  in  some 
humble  measure,  in  all  fidelity  and  with  dauntless 
courage,  with  genial  sympathy,  with  pure  affection,  bo 
witnesses  for  God,  like  that  glorious  angel  whom  the 
evangelist  saw  with  the  light  upon  his  wings,  having 
the  everlasting  Gospel  to  preach  unto  every  nation  and 
people  and  tongue. 

II.  I  observe,  secondly,  the  business  of  the  ministry 
is  mainly  with  THE  conscience  of  men.  Every  man 
has  a  conscience ;  that  is,  a  natural  sense  of  the  diffe¬ 
rence  between  good  and  evil — a  principle  which  does 
not  concern  itself  so  much  with  the  true  and  false  in 
human  ethics,  or  .with  the  gainful  and  damaging  in 
human  fortunes,  as  with  the  right  and  wrong  in  human 
conduct.  Call  it  what  you  will,  analyze  it  as  you  may 
— a  faculty,  an  emotion,  a  law — it  is  the  most  important 
principle  in  our  nature,  because  by  it  we  are  brought 
into  sensible  connection  with,  and  sensible  recognition 
of,  the  moral  government  of  God.  It  has  been  defined 
sometimes  as  a  tribunal  within  a  man  for  his  own  daily 
and  impartial  trial;  and  in  its  various  aspects  it  answers 
right  well  to  all  the  parts  of  a  judicial  tribunal.  It  is 
the  bar  at  which  the  sinner  pleads ;  it  prefers  the  accu- 


THU  MISSION  OF  THE  TULPIT. 


101 


sation  of  transgression ;  it  records  the  crime ;  it  bears 
witness  to  guilt  or  innocence;  and  as  a  judge  it  acquits 
or  condemns.  Thus  taking  cognizance  of  moral  actions, 
it  is  the  faculty  which  relates  us  to  the  other  world ; 
and.  by  it  God,  retribution,  eternity,  are  made  abiding 
realities  to  the  soul.  As  by  the  physical  senses  we  are 
brought  into  connection  with  the  physical  world,  and 
the  blue  heavens  over  it,  and  the  green  earth  around 
us,  are  recognized  in  their  relation  to  ourselves ;  so  by 
this  moral  sense  of  conscience  we  see  ourselves,  in  the 
light  of  immortality,  responsible  creatures,  and  gain 
ideas  of  duty  and  of  God.  How  mighty  is  the  influ¬ 
ence  which  this  power  has  wielded,  and  yet  continues 
to  wield  in  the  world !  There  are  many  that  have  tried 
to  be  rid  of  it,  but  there  is  a  manhood  at  its  heart  which 
murder  cannot  kill.  There  are  many  that  have  rebelled 
against  its  authority,  but  they  have  acknowledged  its 
might  notwithstanding,  and  it  has  rendered  them  dis¬ 
turbed  and  uneasy  in  their  sin.  There  are  multitudes 
more  that  have  fretted  against  its  wholesome  warnings ; 
and  often  when — because  it  has  warned  them  of  danger 
or  threatened  them  with  penalty — they  have  tried  to 
stifle  and  entomb  it,  it  has  risen  up  suddenly  into  a 
braver  resurrection,  and  pealed  forth  its  remonstrances 
in  bolder  port  and  louder  tone.  But  for  its  restraint, 
many  of  the  world’s  reputable  ones  would  have  become 
criminal.  But  for  its  restraint,  many  of  the  world’s 
criminals  would  have  become  more  audaciously  bad. 
It  has  spoken,  and  the  felon,  fleeing  wdien  no  man  pur- 


102 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  l'UEPIT. 


sued  him,  has  been  chased  by  a  falling  leaf.  It  has 
spoken,  and  the  burglar  has  paled  behind  his  mask, 
startled  at  his  own  footfall.  It  has  spoken,  and  ,the 
coward  assassin  has  been  arrested  in  his  purpose,  and 
has  paused  irresolute  ere  be  has  struck  the  blow.  Its 
vindictive  and  severe  upbraiding  after  the  sin  has  been 
committed  has  often  lashed  the  sinner  into  agony,  and 
secured  an  interval  of  comparative  morality  by  pre¬ 
venting  sin  for  a  season.  It  has  been  the  one  witness 

o 

for  God  amid  the  traitor  faculties— single  but  undis¬ 
mayed,  solitary  but  true.  When  the  understanding 
and  the  memory,  and  the  will  and  the  affections,  had 
all  consented  to  the  enticements  of  evil,  conscience  has 
stood  firm,  and  the  man  could  never  sin  with  comfort 
until  he  had  drugged  it  into  desperate  repose.  It  has 
been  the  one  dissentient  power  among  the  faculties, 
like  a  moody  guest  among  a  company  of  frantic  revel¬ 
lers,  whom  they  could  neither  conciliate  nor  expel. 
When  God’s  judgments  have  been  abroad  in  the  world, 
and  men  would  fain  have  resolved  them  into  ordinary 
occurrences  or  natural  phenomena,  conscience  lias 
refused  to  be  satisfied  with  such  delusive  interpreta¬ 
tions,  and,  without  a  prophet’s  inspiration,  has  itself 
deciphered  the  handwriting  as  it  blazed  upon  the  wall. 
It  has  forced  the  criminal  oftentimes  to  deliver  himself 
up  to  justice,  preferring  the  public  shame  of  the  trial 
and  the  gallows-tree  to  the  deeper  hell  of  a  conscience 
aroused  and  angry.  Yes,  and  it  has  constrained  from 
the  dying  sinner  a  testimony  to  the  God  he  has  insulted, 


TH  1C  MISSION  OF  Til  10  PULPIT. 


103 


\ 


given  wlien  the  shadows  of  perdition  were  already 
darkening  upon  the  branded  brow. 

Oil,  brethren,  that  must  be  a  mighty  power  which 
has  wrought  and  which  is  working  thus !  And  it  has 
wrought  and  is  working  in  you ;  and,  as  such,  we 
acknowledge  it.  We  can  despise  no  man  who  has  a 
conscience.  Although  with  meanness  and  with  sin  he 
may  largely  overlay  it,  we  recognize  the  majestic  and 
insulted  guest,  and  are  silent  and  respectful  as  in  the 
presence  of  a  fallen  king.  We  see  the  family-likeness, 
although  intemperance  has  bloated  the  features  and  has 
dulled  the  sparkle  of  the  eye.  There  is  a  spirit  in  man, 
and  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth  him  under¬ 
standing.  How  it  is  with  this  faculty  in  man  that  the 
minister  has  mainly  to  do.  His  work,  his  business,  is  to 
bring  out  the  world’s  conscience  in  its  answer  to  the 
truths  of  Divine  revelation.  Recognizing  in  it  some¬ 
thing  which  can  respond  to  its  own  duty,  the  minister¬ 
ing  witness  without  will  constantly  appeal  to  the 
answering  witness  within.  Regarding  all  other  facul¬ 
ties,  however  separately  noticeable,  as  avenues  only  to 
the  conscience,  he  will  aim  constantly  at  the  ears  of  the 
inner  man.  To  come  short  of  this  is  to  come  short  of 
duty.  To  fail  in  this  is  to  fail  in  a  work  which  our 
Master  has  given  us  to  do.  We  should  form  but  a  very 
unworthy  estimate  of  our  own  high  calling  if  we  were 
to  aim  at  the  subjugation  of  any  subordinate  faculty, 
and,  that  accomplished,  sit  down  as  if  our  work  were 
done.  The  minister  may  appeal  to  the  intellect — of 


104 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


course  he  may.  All  tlianks  to  him  if  he  clear  away  dif¬ 
ficulties  from  the  path  of  the  bewildered.  All  thanks 
to  him  if  he  present  truth  in  its  symmetry  of  system, 
and  in  all  the  grand  and  rounded  harmony  of  its  beau¬ 
tiful  design.  But  he  must  press  through  the  outworks 
to  the  citadel,  through  the  intellect  to  the  conscience, 
that  the  understanding,  no  longer  darkened,  may  appre¬ 
hend  the  truth,  and  that  the  apprehended  truth  may 
make  the  conscience  free.  The  imagination  may  be 
charmed  by  the  truth,  which  is  itself  beauty ;  but  only 
that  it  may  hold  the  mirror  up  to  conscience,  to  see  its 
own  portrait  there  photographed  directly  from  on  high, 
and  which,  with  such  marvellous  fidelity,  gives  all  the 
scars  upon  the  countenance,  and  every  spot  and  wrinkle 
upon  the  brow.  The  passions  may  be  roused  by  the 
truth,  which  is  the  highest  power — not  that  people  may 
swoon  away  under  terrific  apprehensions  of  wrath,  or 
only  or  mainly  that  people  may  escape  hell  and  enter 
heaven,  but  that  the  conscience  may  resolve  on  a  holy 
life,  that  there  may  result  the  comely  outgrowth  of  a 
transformed  and  spiritual  character,  and  that  through 
the  impending  fear  of  perdition  and  the  promised  water 
of  life,  a  man  may  issue  into  the  wealthy  place  of  con¬ 
fidence  in  God,  assimilation  to  his  image,  that  attach¬ 
ment  to  right  which  would  cleave  fast  to  it,  even  were 
its  cause  hopeless  and  its  friends  dead,  and  that  perfect 
love  which  casteth  out  all  possible  fear. 

It  is  not  the  intellect,  then,  but  the  conscience — not 
the  imagination,  but  the  conscience — not  the  passions, 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


105 


but  the  conscience — to  which  the  minister  is  to  com¬ 
mend  himself  in  the  sight  of  God.  If  he  speaks  to  the 
intellect,  the  philosopher  can  rival  him.  If  he  speaks  to 
the  imagination,  his  brightest  efforts  pale  before  the 
dazzling  images  of  the  poet’s  brain.  If  he  speaks  to  the 
passions,  the  political  demagogue  can  do  it  better.  But, 
in  his  power  over  the  conscience,  he  has  a  power  that 
no  man  shares.  An  autocrat  undisputed,  a  czar  of  many 
lands,  he  can  wield  the  sceptre  over  the  master-faculty 
of  man.  Oh !  very  solemn  is  the  responsibility  which 
thus  rests  upon  the  religious  teacher.  To  have  the 
master-faculty  of  man  within  his  grasp ;  to  witness  of 
truths  that  are  unpopular  and  repulsive  ;  to  reprove  of 
sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment ;  to  do  this 
with  his  own  heart  frail  and  erring,  with  the  moral  con¬ 
flict  battling  in  his  own  spirit  the  while.  “  Who  is 
sufficient  for  these  things  ?”  breaks  often  from  the  man¬ 
liest  heart  in  its  seasons  of  depression  and  unrest.  But 
there  is  a  comfort  broad  and  strong,  and  I  feel  that  com¬ 
fort  now  supporting  me.  While  pained  by  my  own 
unworthiness,  and  by  the  trifling  of  multitudes  over 
whom  ministers  weep  and  yearn — pained  by  the  short¬ 
sighted  and  self-complacent  indifference  of  the  church 
and  the  world — pained  by  the  thousand  difficulties 
which  Satan  always  puts  in  the  way  of  the  reception  of 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus ;  I  say  there  is  a  comfort  of 
which  I  cannot  be  deprived :  that  all  the  while  there  is 
a  mysterious  something  moving  in  you — in  you  all — 
barbing  the  faithful  appeal,  pointing  the  solemn  warn- 


106 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


ing,  striking  the  alarum  in  the  sinner’s  soul.  There  ! 
listen  to  that !  That  belongs  to  thee.  That  heart  so 
callous  and  ungrateful — it  is  thine.  That  sin  that  the 
minister  reproves — thou  hast  committed  it.  That  doom 
so  full  of  agony  and  horror — thou  art  speeding  to  it. 
How  wilt  thou  escape  the  damnation  of  hell  %  Many  a 
time  and  oft,  when  the  minister  without  has  gone 
sheafless  to  his  home,  and  in  tears  has  offered  his 
complaint,  “  Who  hath  believed  our  report  ?”  the  min¬ 
ister  within,  by  God’s  good  grace,  has  been  a  successful 
harvest-man,  and  gathered  sheaves  into  the  garner ;  and 
often  when,  to  the  eye  of  the  human  minister,  there  has 
been  no  ripple  on  the  waves,  deep  in  the  depths  of  the 
soul  have  swelled  the  billows  of  the  troubled  sea ;  and 
in  the  keenest  acknowledgment  of  the  truth  he  was 
endeavoring  to  impress,  men’s  consciences  have  borne 
him  witness,  their  thoughts  meanwhile  accusing,  or  else 
excusing  one  another. 

Again,  the  great  instrumentality  which  God  has 
empowered  us  to  use  is  the  truth.  You  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  understanding  what  the  Apostle  means  by 
the  truth,  because  he  calls  it  “  the  word  of  grace,”  and 
“  our  Gospel.”  The  revelation  of  God  in  Christ,  the 
life  and  teaching  and  wondrous  death  of  Jesus',  was  the 
truth,  alone  adapted  to  the  supply  of  every  need,  and 
the  rescue  from  every  peril.  The  Apostle  was  no  ordi¬ 
nary  man.  Well-read  in  the  literature  of  the  times, 
observant  of  the  tendencies  and  the  inclinations  of  man, 
lie  would  be  ready  to  acknowledge  truth  everywhere. 


TIIE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


107 


He  knew  that  there  had  been  truth  in  the  world  before. 
He  would  see  it  in  Pagan  systems,  gleaming  faintly 
through  encumbered  darkness.  Fragments  of  it  had 
fallen  from  philosophers  in  former  times,  and  had  been 
treasured  up  as  wisdom.  It  had  a  somewhat  healthy 
circulation  through  the  household  impulses  and  ordinary 
concerns  of  men.  Put  it  was  all  truth  for  the  intellect, 
truth  for  social  life,  truth  for  the  manward,  not  the  God- 
ward  relations  of  the  soul.  The  truth  which  told  of 
God,  which  hallowed  all  morality  by  the  sanctions  of 
Divine  law,  which  provided  for  the  necessities  of  the 
entire  man,  was  seen  but  dimly  in  uncertain  traditions. 
Conscience  was  a  slave.  If  it  essayed  to  speak,  it  was 
overdone  by  clamor,  or  hushed  by  interest  into  silence. 
The  higher  rose  the  culture,  the  deeper  sank  the  charac¬ 
ter.  The  whole  world  seemed  like  one  vast  valley, 
fertile  and  gay  with  flowers,  but  no  motion  in  the  dumb 
air,  not  any  song  of  bird  or  sound  of  rill ;  the  gross 
darkness  of  the  inner  sepulchre  was  not  so  deadly  still, 
until  there  came  down  a  breath  from  heaven  that 
brought  life  upon  its  wings,  and  breathed  that  life  into 
the  unconscious  heaps  of  slain.  Thus,  when  Christ 
came  with  his  Gospel  of  purity  and  freedom,  all  other 
truth  seemed  to  borrow  from  it  a  clearer  light  and  a 
richer  adaptation.  The  ordinary  instincts  of  right 
and  wrong  were  sharpened  into  a  keener  discernment, 
and  invested  with  a  more  spiritual  sensibility.  Ti  e 
Gospel  founded  a  grander  morality  ;  the  Gospel  ests  '- 
lished  a  more  chivalrous  honor  ;  the  Gospel  shed  oui  \ 


108 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


more  genial  benevolence.  All  the  old  systems  had 
looked  at  man  as  a  lialf-man ;  only  on  one  side  of  his 
nature  ;  that  part  of  him  that  lay  down  to  the  earth. 
The  Gospel  took  the  whole  round  of  his  faculties,  both 
as  lying  toward  earth  and  as  rising  toward  heaven. 
Love  to  man — the  ordinary,  commonplace  philanthropy 
of  every  day,  the  philanthropy  that  wings  the  feet  of 
the  good  Samaritan,  and  that  sends  all  the  almsgivers 
upon  errands  of  mercy — love  to  man  was  not  known  in 
its  fullness,  until  the  Gospel  came.  £t  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbor  ”  was  a  command  of  old,  but  then  the 
Jews  first  contracted  the  neighborhood,  and -then  they 
contracted  the  affection.  The  Jew’s  neighbor  was  not 
the  Samaritan,  but  one  within  his  own  exclusive  pale 
and  sphere.  But  when  love  to  God  came,  like  a  queenly 
mother  leading  out  her  daughter  by  the  hand,  then  men 
wondered  at  the  rare  and  radiant  beauty  that  had 
escaped  their  notice  so  long ;  and  when  they  loved  God 
first,  then  it  was  that  from  that  master-love  the  streams 
of  love  to  man  flowed  forth  in  ceaseless  and  in  generous 
profusion.  And  the  Gospel  is  just  the  same  now.  It  is 
the  great  inspiration  of  ordinary  kindnesses,  and  of  the 
every-day  and  rippling  happiness  of  life.  It  is  the  truth 
for  man ;  the  truth  for  man’s  every  exigency,  and  for 
his  very  peril — blessing  the  body  and  saving  the  soul. 
By  the  truth,  then,  which  we  are  to  commend  to  every 
man’s  conscience,  wo  understand  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
J esus — the  truth  which  convinces  of  sin  and  humbles 
under  a  sense  of  it ;  the  truth  which  reveals  atonement 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


109 


and  flashes  pardon  from  it ;  the  truth  which  leads  the 
pardoned  spirit  upward  to  holiness  and  heaven.  Now, 
wTe  are  to  bring  that  conscience  and  that  truth  into  con¬ 
nection  with  each  other ;  that  is  the  great  business  for 
which  we  are  gathered  here.  In  order  that  there  may 
be  the  bringing  of  the  one  into  connection  with  the 
other,  there  must  be  variety  in  all  truth,  suited  to  the 
various  states  in  which  the  conscience  of  the  hearers 
may  be  found. 

Now,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  we  may  take  it  that 
there  are  three  stages  in  which  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
consciences  of  humanity  are  ranged :  those  vHfose  con¬ 
sciences  are  slumbering,  torpid,  inert,  lifeless ;  those 
whose  consciences  are  quick,  apprehensive,  alarmed ; 
and  those  whose  consciences  have  passed  through  those 
former  stages,  and  are  now  peaceful,  happy,  and  at  rest. 

1.  First,  there  are  some  consciences  that  have  no  appre¬ 
hension  of  God — no  spiritual  sensibility  at  all.  It  is  a 
very  sad  thought  that  this  has  been,  and  continues  to 
be,  the  condition  of  the  vast  majority  of  mankind. 
Think  of  the  vast  domain  of  paganism,  where  the  truth 
of  God  is  lost  for  lack  of  knowledge,  with  its  monstrous 
idols,  fertile  of  cruelty,  and  its  characters  exemplifying 
every  variety  of  evil.  You  may  look  through  universal 
history  ;  you  can  see  the  track  of  passion  in  the  light  of 
the  flames  which  it  has  kindled ;  you  can  see  the  works 
of  imagination  throned  in  bodiless  thought,  or  sculptured 
in  breathing  marble  ;  you  can  see  the  many  inventions 
of  intellect  on  every  hand,  but  for  conscience  placed  on 


110 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  l’ULPIT. 


its  rightful  seat,  and  exerting  its  legitimate  authority, 
you  look  almost  in  vain.  Even  in  Christian  England 
there  are  multitudes  of  whom  it  may  he  said  that  God 
is  not  in  all  their  thoughts,  to  whom  conscience  is  a  dull 
and  drowsy  monitor,  who  live  on  from  day  to  day  in 
the  disregard  of  plainest  duties,  and  in  habitual,  harden¬ 
ing  sin.  Are  there  not  some  here  ?  It  may  he  you  go 
to  your  place  of  worship,  hut  to  little  purpose ;  you  are 
rarely  missed  from  your  accustomed  seat,  hut  you  have 
trifled  with  conscience  until  it  rarely  troubles  you,  and 
when  it  does,  you  pooh-pooh  it  as  the  incoherences  of  a 
drunkard,  «or  the  ravings  of  some  frantic  madman. 
Brethren,  I  do  feel  it  a  solemn  duty  to  manifest  God’s 
arousing  truth  to  you.  I  appeal  to  the  moral  sense 
within  you.  You  are  attentive  to  the  truth  ;  the  Word 
is  suffered  to  play  around  your  understanding ;  I  want 
it  to  go  deeper.  I  accuse  you  fearlessly  of  heinous  and 
flagrant  transgression,  because  you  have  not  humbled 
yourselves  before  Heaven;  and  God,  in  whose  hands 
your  breath  is,  and  whose  are  all  your  ways,  you  have 
not  glorified.  I  charge  you  with  living  to  yourselves,  or 
that,  going  about  to  establish  yonr  own  righteousness, 
you  have  not  submitted  yourself  to  the  righteousness  of 
God.  I  arraign  you  as  being  guilty  of  base  ingratitude, 
inasmuch  as  when  Christ  was  offered,  the  just  for  the 
unjust,  that  he  might  bring  you  to  God,  you  refused  to 
hearken.  And  you  have  trodden  under  foot  the  blood 
of  the  covenant,  and  counted  it  an  unholy  thing.  I 
accuse  some  of  you,  moreover,  of  trying  to  secure  iin- 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


Ill 


punity  by  your  vile  treatment  of  God’s  inward  witness. 
You  have  deposed  conscience  from  its  throne ;  you  have 
tried  to  bribe  it  to  be  a  participator  with  you  in  your 
crimes ;  you  have  overborne  it  by  interest,  or  business, 
or  clamor,  or  pleasure ;  you  have  limited  its  scrutiny  to 
the  external  actions,  and  not  allowed  it  to  sit  in  judg¬ 
ment  over  the  thoughts  and  intentions  of  the  inner 
man.  When  it  has  startled  you,  you  have  lulled  it  to 
sleep,  and  you  have  done  it  on  purpose  that  you  might 
the  more  easily  and  the  more  comfortably  sin.  Bre¬ 
thren,  I  am  not  your  enemy  because  I  have  told  you  the 
truth.  That  very  conscience  which  you  have  insulted 
bears  me  witness  that  it  is  the  truth  which  I  now  minis¬ 
ter  before  you.  I  warn  you  of  your  danger.  Oh !  I 
would  not  fear  to  shake  you  roughly  if  I  could  only 
bring  you  to  a  knowledge  of  yourselves.  It  is  a  sad  and 
disastrous  thought  that  there  are  some  consciences  here 
so  fatally  asleep  that  they  may  never  be  roused  except 
by  the  peal  of  the  judgment  trumpet  or  by  the  flashing 
of  the  penal  fires. 

2.  Then  there  are  some  whose  consciences  are  aroused , 
and  who  are  going  about,  it  may  be,  in  bitterness  of 
soul.  You  have  seemed,  perhaps,  hard  and  impene¬ 
trable,  but  there  has  been  a  terrible  war  in  your  soul ; 
your  conscience  has  been  at  work ;  it  is  at  work  now. 
Oh !  I  have  a  power  over  you  from  this  fact — that  I 
have  got  an  ally  in  your  own  bosom  testifying  to  the 
truth  of  the  things  I  speak  before  you.  You  may  fret 
against  that  power,  but  you  cannot  rob  me  of  it.  You 


112 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


cannot  get  the  barb  out ;  all  your  endeavors  to  extract 
it  only  widen  and  deepen  the  wound.  My  brother,  oh ! 
let  me  manifest  Christ’s  redeeming  truth  to  thee. 
Christ  has  died ;  all  thy  wants  may  be  supplied  through 
his  wondrous  death.  Is  thy  heart  callous  and  ungrate¬ 
ful?  lie  has  exalted  the  law  and  made  it  honorable. 
Hast  thou  dishonored  justice?  He  has  satisfied  its 
claims.  Hast  thou  violated  law  ?  He  has  lifted  up  the 
majesty  of  its  equity.  Is  there  in  thy  spirit  unrest  and 
storm  ?  Come  to  him ;  thy  conscience  is  like  the  Gali 
lean  lake — it  shall  hear  him,  and  there  shall  be  a  great 
calm.  Doth  the  curse  brood  over  thee,  and  calamity 
appal  thy  soul  ?  Flee  to  his  outstretched  arms,  and  as 
thou  sobbest  on  his  bosom  hear  his  whispered  comfort : 
“  There  is,  therefore,  now  no  condemnation  unto  them 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh, 
but  after  the  Spirit.”  See  the  clouds  disappear,  the 
tempest  hath  passed  by,  the  storms  rage  no  longer  ;  lift 
up  thy  head,  serene,  peaceful,  smiling,  happy.  Let  us 
hear  thy  experience:  “In  whom  I  have  redemption 
through  his  blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  riches  of  his  grace.” 

3.  But  some  of  you  have  got  still  further,  and  are 
liafjpy  in  the  sense  erf  the  Redeemer's  love.  You  are  in 
the  fairest  possible  position  for  the  true  soul-growth  day 
by  day.  You  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus  now.  You  have 
victory  over  the  carnal  mind  now.  All  antagonistic 
powers  are  made  subject  now.  Conscience  has  resumed 
its  authority,  and  is  sensitive  at  the  approach  of  ill,  and 


THE  MISSION  OF  TIIE  PULPIT. 


113 


eager  for  the  completed  will  of  God.  I  rejoice  to  mani¬ 
fest  God’s  discipling,  training,  growing,  comforting, 
nourishing  truth  to  you.  Self  is  not  the  master- 
principle  within  you  now ;  you  are  not  paralyzed  by 
craven  fear.  There  is  a  good  land  and  fair  before  you. 
Rise  to  the  dignity  of  your  heritage.  What  a  future 
awaits  you  !  to  be  day  by  day  more  like  God,  to  have 
day  by  day  bright  visions  of  the  throne,  day  by  day  in¬ 
creased  power  over  sin,  increased  progress  toward 
heaven,  increased  fellowship  with  the  Divine ;  and  then 
when  the  tabernacle  falls  down  there  opens  another 
scene — angelic  welcomes,  the  King  in  his  beauty,  and  a 
house  not  made  with  hands  eternal  in  the  heavens. 

III.  “  By  manifestation  of  the  truth  commending 
ourselves  to  every  man’s  conscience  in  the  sight  of 
God.”  In  the  sight  of  God.  Ah !  that  is  the  thought 
that  hallows  it.  All  our  endeavors  for  the  enlighten¬ 
ment  of  the  ignorant  are  under  the  felt  inspection  of 
Almighty  God.  Ilis  eye  marks  the  effort ;  his  voice, 
“I  know  thy  works,”  is  constantly  in-spoken  to  the 
soul.  It  is  necessary  that  we  should  feel  this  in  order 
to  fit  us  for  our  duty.  If  we  do  not  feel  this  we  shall 
have  no  courage.  Depend  upon  it,  the  heroism  which 
the  pulpit  needs,  which  it  never  needed  in  this  world’s 
history  so  much  as  it  needs  to-day — the  heroism  which 
the  pulpit  needs,  which  the  ministry  must  have,  will 
not  be  wrought  in  the  soul  unless  this  thought  be  there. 
There  is  so  much  to  enslave  a  man — the  consciousness 
of  his  own  unworthiness  and  weakness,  in  his  best  and 


114 


THE  MISSION  OF  TIIE  PULPIT. 


holiest  moments ;  the  love  of  approbation  which,  from 
a  natural  instinct,  swells  often  into  a  sore  temptation ; 
the  reluctance  to  give  offence  lest  the  ministry  should 
he  blamed,  the  anxiety  as  to  what  men  think  of  him 
and  say  of  him — oh !  how  often  have  these  things 
checked  the  stern  reproof  or  faithful  warning,  made 
a  preacher  the  slave  instead  of  the  monarch  of  his 
congregation,  and,  instead  of  the  stern,  strong,  fearless 
utterance  of  the  prophet,  made  him  stammer  forth  his 
lispings  with  the  hesitancy  of  a  blushing  child.  De¬ 
pend  upon  it,  it  is  no  light  matter ;  it  requires  no  com¬ 
mon  boldness  to  stand  single-handed  before  the  pride 
of  birth,  and  the  pride  of  rank,  and  the  pride  of  office, 
and  the  pride  of  intellect,  and  the  pride  of  money,  to 
rebuke  their  transgressions,  to  strip  off  their  false  con¬ 
fidence,  and  tear  away  their  refuges  of  lies.  But  if  a 
man  have  it  burned  into  his  heart  that  he  is  speaking 
in  the  sight  of  God,  he  will  do  it — yes,  he  will.  God- 
fear  will  banish  man-fear.  He  will  feel  that  for  the 
time  the  pulpit  is  his  empire  and  the  temple  is  his 
throne,  and,  like  another  Baptist,  he  will  thunder  out 
his  denunciations  against  rich  and  poor  together,  "with 
his  honest  eyes  straight  flashing  into  theirs,  “Except 
ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.” 

“  In  the  sight  of  God.”  Give  him  that  thought,  and 
he  will  be  tender  as  well  as  brave ;  he  will  look  upon 
his  congregation  as  immortal,  and  will  see  in  each  one 
before  him  (oh,  that  thought  is  overwhelming !)  an  off¬ 
spring  of  the  Divine,  an  heir  of  the  Everlasting ;  and 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


115 


in  this  aspect  of  it  lie  will  tremble  before  the  majesty 
of  man ;  he  wTill  be  awe-struck  as  he  thinks  of  trying 
to  influence  them  for  eternity.  There  will  be  no  harsh¬ 
ness  in  his  tones,  there  will  be  no  severity  in  his  coun¬ 
tenance.  If  the  violated  law  must  speak  out  its  thun¬ 
ders,  it  will  be  through  brimming  eyes  and  faltering 
tongue.  He  wrill  remember  his  own  recent  deliverance. 
Like  Joseph,  he  will  scatter  blessings  round  him  with 
a  large  and  liberal  hand ;  but  there  will  be  no  osten¬ 
tation,  there  will  be  no  vanity ;  for  he  will  remember 
that  he  is  but  the  almoner  of  another’s  bounty,  and  that 
his  own  soul  has  only  just  been  brought  out  of  prison. 
He  will  be  like  one  shipwrecked  mariner  who  has  but 
just  got  upon  a  rock,  and  is  stretching  out  a  helping 
hand  to  another  who  yet  struggles  in  the  waters  ;  but 
he  that  is  on  the  rock  knows  that  the  yawning  ocean 
rages  and  is  angry,  near.  Oh  !  let  us  realize  that  we 
are  in  sight  of  God,  and  we  shall  have  larger  sympa¬ 
thies  for  man,  we  shall  have  more  of  the  spirit  of  Him 
who  came  eating  and  drinking,  who  was  a  friend  of 
publicans  and  sinners.  There  will  be  no  fierce  rebukes, 
no  proud  exclusivism,  no  pharisaical  arrogance  then. 
The  sleeper  will  not  be  harshly  chided ;  the  remon¬ 
strance  of  affection  will  yearn  over  him,  “  My  brother, 
my  brother !”  and  the  tear  will  gather  in  the  eye  as  the 
invitation  is  given,  or  the  regret  is  breathed,  “  Ye  will 
not  come  unto  me  that  ye  may  have  life  “  Come,  all 
ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.” 


116 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


“In  the  sight  of  God.”  That,  will  help  us  to  per¬ 
severe.  ¥e  shall  be  constant  as  well  as  brave  and 
tender,  if  we  realize  continually  that  we  are  in  the 
sight  of  God.  Though  difficulties  multiply,  this  will 
prevent  us  from  becoming  weary  and  faint  in  our 
minds ;  we  shall  remember  him  who  endured  the  con¬ 
tradiction  of  sinners  against  himself;  and,  through 
perverseness  or  obstinacy,  whether  men  will  bear  or 
whether  men  will  forbear,  we  shall  labor  on  for  the 
cause  of  Christ  and  for  the  good  of  souls.  We  shall 
not  be  satisfied  with  good  report,  with  extensive  popu¬ 
larity,  with  decorous  congregations,  with  attention  set¬ 
tled,  and  seriousness  upon  every  countenance.  We 
shall  want  souls.  We  shall  press  right  away  through 
to  the  great  end  of  restoring  the  supremacy  of  con¬ 
science,  and  bringing  the  disordered  world  back  again 
to  its  allegiance  to  God.  This  is  our  life-work,  and  we 
are  doing  it  day  by  day — unfaithfully,  imperfectly,  but 
we  are  doing  it.  Moral  truth  upon  the  mind  of  man 
is  something  like  a  flat  stone  in  a  churchyard,  through 
which  there  is  a  thoroughfare,  and  hundreds  of  patter¬ 
ing  feet  go  over  it  day  after  day.  Familiarity  with  it 
lias  weakened  the  impression,  and  time  has  effaced  the 
lettering.  But  God  has  sent  us  with  a  friendly  chisel 
to  bring  it  out  again  into  sharpest,  clearest,  crispest, 
distinctest  outline  before  the  spirits  of  men.  This  is 
our  life-work ;  and  we  are  laboring  on  amid  the  driving 
sleet  and  pelting  rain ;  jostled  now  and  then  by  the 
rude  and  heedless .  passenger ;  fitfully  looked  at  by 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPIT. 


117 


those  who  flit  away  to  the  farm  and  the  merchandise ; 
regarded  with  a  sort  of  contemptuous  admiration  by 
those  who  admire  our  industry,  while  they  pity  our 
enthusiasm.  Patient,  earnest  workers,  wtc  must  labor 
on,  and  we  intend  to  do  it.  God  helping,  the  ministry 
of  reconciliation  -will  continue  to  be  proclaimed,  within 
reach  of  every  man  in  this  land,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath, 
universally,  unto  those  who  will  come,  without  money 
and  -without  price.  And  everywhere  we  shall  have 
our  reward.  I,  for  my  part,  cannot  labor  in  vain. 
What  think  you  would  sustain  me  under  the  pressure 
of  the  multiplied  excitement  and  multiplied  sorrow 
and  labor,  but  the  thought  that  I  cannot  labor  in  vain  ? 
The  words  I  have  just  spoken  have  been  launched  into 
your  ears,  and  have  lodged  in  your  conscience,  and  I 
cannot  recall  them.  Simple,  well-known  Bible  truths 
have  gone  into  your  conscience,  and  I  cannot  recall 
them.  But  they  shall  come  up  some  day.  You  and 
I  may  never  meet  again  until  we  stand  at  the  judg¬ 
ment-seat  of  God.  They  shall  come  up  then — then — 
and,  verily,  I  shall  have  my  reward.  I  shall  have  it 
when  some  fair-haired  child  steps  out  to  spell  out  the 
syllables  upon  the  flat  stone,  and  goes  away  with  a 
new  purpose  formed  in  his  heart.  I  shall  have  it  -when 
some  weather-beaten  man,  bronzed  with  the  hues  of 
climates  and  shades  of  years,  takes  the  solemn  warning, 
numbers  his  days,  and  applies  his  heart  unto  wisdom. 
I  shall  have  it  in  the  welcome  given  to  my  ascending 
spirit  by  some  whom  I  first  taught,  it  may  be  un- 


118 


TUE  MISSION  OF  THE  PULPrT. 


worthily,  to  swell  the  hosanna  of  praise,  or  to  join 
with  holy  sincerity  in  all  the  litanies  of  prayer.  I 
shall  have  it  in  the  smile  that  wraps  np  all  heaven  in 
itself,  and  in  those  tones  of  kindness  which  Hood  the 
sonl  with  ineffable  music — “Well  done,  thou  good  and 
faithful  servant;  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord.” 
I  leave  with  you  and  the  Spirit — 1  dare  not  trust  you 
alone — -the  Word  of  his  grace,  praying  that  lie  who 
alone  can  apply  it,  may  give  it  life  and  power. 


IV. 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  TIIE  ARK  OF  GOD. 

“  And  when  he  came,  lo,  Eli  sat  upon  a  seat  by  the  wayside  watching  ; 
for  his  heart  trembled  for  the  ark  of  God.” — 1  Sam.  iv.  13. 

W hat  news  from  tlie  battle-field  ? — for  the  Philistines 
are  out  against  Israel,  and  the  Israelitish  armies  are 
marshalled,  and  have  gone  forth  unto  the  fight.  A  few 
days  ago  a  reverse  befell  them,  but  they  have  sent  for  a 
fancied  talisman,  and  they  are  marching  now  with  the 
ark  of  God  in  their  midst,  deeming  that  its  presence  in 
their  camp  wTill  assure  victory  to  their  side.  There  is 
expectation  in  the  streets  of  Shiloh,  doubt  and  hope 
alternating  in  the  spirits  of  its  townsmen ;  for  though 
the  ark  is  a  tower  of  strength,  yet  their  defeat  has  dis¬ 
heartened  them,  and  dark  rumors,  moreover,  of  the 
Lord’s  kindled  anger,  and  of  sad  prophecies  alleged  to 
have  been  spoken,  are  rife  among  the  people ;  so  that 
many  a  glance  is  strained  wistfully  toward  the  plains 
of  Aphek,  whence  the  couriers  may  bring  tidings  of  the 
war.  There  are  quiveriug  lips  in  the  city,  and  cheeks 
blanched  with  sudden  fear ;  for  the  tidings  have  come, 
and  they  are  tidings  of  disaster  and  of  shame:  the  glory 


120 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  COD. 


of  Israel  hath  fallen  upon  its  high  places  ;  the  shield  of 
the  mighty  hath  been  vilely  cast  away;  thirty  thousand 
of  the  people  have  fallen  with  a  great  slaughter ;  and 
the  sacred  symbol  of  their  faith  itself  has  been  carried 
off  in  triumph  by  the  worshippers  of  Ashtaroth  and 
Dagon.  Loud  is  the  wail  of  the  widows,  and  terrible 
the  anguish  of  the  remnant  that  are  left,  oppressed  by 
the  national  dishonor.  But  yonder,  near  the  gate,  there 
is  one  feeble  old  man,  with  silvered  hair  and  sightless 
eyes,  before  whom,  as  each  mourner  passes,  he  subdues 
his  sorrow  into  silence,  as  in  the  presence  of  grief  that 
is  mightier  than  his  own.  It  is  Eli,  the  high  priest  of 
God  ;  he  hears  the  tumult,  but  is  yet  unconscious  of  its 
cause.  But  now  the  messenger  comes  in  hastily  to 
unfold  his  burden  of  lamentation  and  of  weeping. 
“  And  the  man  said  unto  Eli,  I  am  he  that  came  out  of 
the  army,  and  I  fled  to-day  out  of  the  army.  And  he 
said,  What  is  there  done,  my  son  ?”  Oh,  terrible  are 
the  tidings  that  are  now  to  come  upon  the  heart  of  that 
old  man,  like  successive  claps  of  thunder.  “  And  the 
messenger  answered  and  said,  Israel  is  fled  before 
the  Philistines  ’’—here  the  patriot  mourns — “  and  there 
hath  been  also  a  great  slaughter  among  the  people  ” — 
here  the  spirit  of  the  judge  is  stricken — “and  thy  two 
sons  also,  Hophni  and  Phineas,  are  dead” — here  the 
father’s  heart  bleeds.  Strong  must  have  been  the 
struggle  of  the  spirit  under  the  pressure  of  this  cumu¬ 
lative  agony,  but  it  bears  nobly  up.  Ah,  but  there  is  a 
heavier  woe  behind:  “And  the  ark  of  God  is  taker. 


60LICITCDK  FOIi  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


121 


And  it  came  to  pass  when  he  made  mention  of  the  ark 
of  God  ” — not  till  then,  never  till  then — “  that  he  fell 
from  off  the  seat  backward  by  the  side  of  the  gate,  and 
his  neck  brake,  and  he  died. 55  The  grand  old  man  :  he 
may  have  been  feeble  in  restraint  and  criminal  in 
indulgence,  but  there  is  majesty  about  this  his  closing 
scene  which  redeems  his  errors  and  shrines  him  with 
the  good  and  true.  The  patriot  could  survive  the  dis¬ 
honor  of  his  country;  the  judge,  though  weeping  sore, 
could  be  submissive  under  the  slaughter  of  the  people ; 
the  father,  his  heart  rent  the  while  with  remorseful 
memories,  could  have  upborne  under  the  double  be¬ 
reavement  :  but  the  saint  swooned  away  his  life  when 
deeper  affliction  was  narrated  of  the  disaster  that  had 
happened  to  the  ark  of  God.  “  And  it  came  to  pass 
that  when  he  made  mention  of  the  ark  of  God  that  he 
fell  from  off  the  seat  backward  by  the  side  of  the  gate, 
and  his  neck  brake,  and  he  died.” 

Brethren,  this  is  just  the  character,  the  type  of  cha¬ 
racter,  that  we  covet  for  the  churches  of  to-day — men  of 
broad  souls,  large-hearted  and  kindly  in  their  human 
sympathy,  bating  not  a  jot  in  all  earthly  activities  and 
philanthropy,  but  reserving  their  highest  solicitudes  for 
the  cause  and  service  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  “  An 
impossible  combination,”  scoffers  are  ready  to  observe 
“  and  unlovely  even  if  it  were  possible.  The  narrow 
fanaticism  will  contract  the  human  affection ;  the  man 
will  be  so  absorbed  in  the  possibilities  of  the  shall-be  as 
to  forget  the  interests  of  the  now;  he  will  live  in  a 

0 


122 


SOLICITUDE  FOE  THE  AUK  OF  GOD. 


world  of  the  ideal,  and  the  life  that  now  is,  and  that 
presses  upon  ns  so  incessantly  on  every  side,  wTill  dege¬ 
nerate  into  a  brief  history  of  dwarfed  charities  and 

v 

aimless  being.”  [Nay,  surely  not  so,  my  brother.  That 
love  must  ever  be  the  kindliest,  even  on  its  human  side, 
which  has  the  furthest  and  the  most  open  vision.  That 
cannot  be  either  a  small  or  a  scanty  affection  which 
takes  eternity  within  its  scope  and  range.  The  Christ¬ 
ian,  the  more  he  realizes  his  Christianity,  and  embodies 
it,  becomes  of  necessity  pervaded  by  an  affection, 
bounded  only  by  the  limits  of  humanity. 

“Pare  love  to  God  its  members  find— 

Pure  love  to  every  son  of  man.” 

And  this  love,  which  the  thought  of  eternity  thus  makes 
indestructible,  is  raised  by  the  same  thought  above  the 
imperfections  which  attach  themselves  to  individual 
character,  so  that  it  sees  the  broad  stamp  of  humanity 
everywhere,  and  discovers,  even  in  the  outcast  and 
trembling  sinner,  an  heir  of  the  Everlasting,  an  offspring 
of  the  Divine. 

And  this,  the  perfection  of  character,  is  the  character 
which  we  covet  for  you.  You  will  find  very  many 
instances  in  Scripture  in  which,  in  words  full,  full  to 
overflowing,  of  the  warmest  human  affection,  regard 
for  the  spiritual  is  discovered,  not  in  ostentatious  obtru¬ 
sion,  but  in  developments  of  incidental  beauty,  to  be 
the  reigning  passion  of  the  soul.  Who  can  for  a 
moment  doubt  the  strong  human  affection  of  the  be- 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


123 


loved  disciple,  who,  loving  at  first,  drank  in  a  deeper 
lovingness  as  he  lay  upon  the  Master’s  bosom,  and  to 
whom,  as  the  fittest  for  such  a  mission,  was  committed 
the  charge  of  that  meek  sufferer  with  a  sword  in  her 
heart — the  sad  and  saintly  mother  of  our  Lord  ?  Listen 
to  his  salutation  to  Gaius  the  well-beloved :  “  I  wish 
above  all  things  ”• — this  is  my  chiefest  and  most  fervent 
desire — “I  wish  above  all  things  that  thou  mayest 
prosper  and  be  in  health,  even  as  thy  soul  prospereth.” 
This  is  the  principal  thing  after  all.  Remember  David 
and  all  his  afflictions.  See  the  persecuted  monarch 
fleeing  from  his  infuriated  and  bitter  enemies,  hunted 
like  a  hart  upon  the  mountains,  lodged,  with  small 
estate  and  diminished  train,  in  some  fortress  of  Engedi  or 
in  some  cave  of  Adullam !  Of  what  dreams  he  in  his 
solitude  ?  Wliat  are  the  memories  that  charge  his 
waking  hours  ?  Does  he  sigh  for  the  palace  and  the 
purple,  for  the  sceptre  and  the  crown?  Ho — Hark! 
His  royal  harp,  long  silent,  trembles  again  into  melody ! 
“  How  amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord  of  Hosts ! 
My  soul  longeth,  yea,  even  fainteth,  for  the  courts  of 
the  Lord  :  my  heart  and  my  flesh  crieth  out  for  the  living 
God.”  See  him  again  when  he  is  crossing  the  brook 
Kedron,  when  the  hearts  of  his  people  have  been  stolen 
from  him  by  his  vile  and  flattering  son  ;  when  he  has  lost 
his  crown  and  is  in  danger  of  losing  his  life ;  what  is  his 
chiefest  anxiety  in  that  time  of  adversity,  and  in  that 
crisis  of  peril  ?  “  And  the  king  said  unto  Zadok,  carry 

back  the  ark  of  God  into  the  city.  If  I  shall  find  favor 


124 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord  he  will  bring  me  again,  and 
show  me  both  it  and  his  habitation.”  As  if  he  had 
said,  “  The  ark  of  God — all  that  is  tender  and  all  that  is 
sacred  are  in  my  history  associated  with  the  ark  of  God 
— carry  back  the  ark  of  God  into  the  city.  I  am 
hunted  like  a  hart  upon  my  own  mountains ;  I  have 
no  longer  a  sceptre  of  authority ;  I  am  going  upon  a 
precarious  expedition  ;  I  know  not  what  may  become 
of  me.  Carry  back  the  ark.  Don’t  let  it  share  our 
fortune ;  don’t  let  it  be  exposed  to  insult  and  pillage, 
and  the  chances  of  war.  Carry  back  the  ark  carefully. 
Whatever  becomes  of  me,  carry  back  the  ark  of  God 
into  the  city ;  though  I  wander  in  exile,  lie  down  in 
sorrow,  and  am  at  last  buried  in  the  stranger’s  grave.” 
But  what  need  of  multiplying  examples  ?  It  was  his 
religious  home,  the  metropolis  of  faith,  the  place  which 
God’s  presence  had  hallowed,  which  was  referred  to 
when  the  happy  Israelite,  rejoicing  in  recovered  free¬ 
dom,  and  remembering  long  years  of  bondage,  struck 
his  harp  and  sang,  “  By  the  rivers  of  Babylon  there  we 
sat  down ;  yea,  we  -wept  when  we  remembered  Zion.” 
And  this,  I  repeat  it,  brethren,  the  perfection  of  charac¬ 
ter,  is  the  character  we  covet  for  you.  As  Christians 
yon  are  bound  to  cultivate  it.  It  is  the  highest  affec¬ 
tion  in  heaven:  “The  Lord  loveth  the  gates  of  Zion 
more  than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob.”  It  is  the  high¬ 
est  affection  of  the  incarnate  Son  :  “  The  zeal  of  thine 
house  hath  eaten  me  up.”  It  is  the  highest  affection  of 
the  Apostle,  the  highest  style  of  man  :  “  Neither  count 


SOLICITUDE  FOE  TIIE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


125 


I  my  life  dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I  might  finish  my 
course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry  which  I  have  re¬ 
ceived  of  the  Lord  Jesns,  to  testify  the  Gospel  of  the 
grace  of  God.” 

Oh,  that  God  would  raise  np  amongst  ns  Elis  in  our 
spiritual  Israel,  who,  with  reverent  and  earnest  solici¬ 
tude,  would  have  their  hearts  tremble  for  the  ark  of 
God.  Ilis  heart  trembled  for  the  ark  of  God,  and 
wherefore  ?  Because  the  ark  of  God  was  in  peril.  In 
peril  from  its  enemies — in  greater  peril  from  its  friends. 
And,  brethren,  the  cause  and  kingdom  of  Christ,  pure 
religion  and  undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father,  the 
faith  for  which  we  are  valiantly  and  constantly  to  con¬ 
tend,  is  in  this  hazard  to-day.  It  also  is  in  peril :  in 
peril  from  its  enemies ;  in  greater,  deeper,  deadlier  peril 
from  its  friends. 

These  are  the  points  which  I  will  endeavor,  briefly, 
God  helping  me,  to  illustrate  on  the  present  occasion. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  the  ark  of  God  is  in  peril  from 
its  enemies.  There  never  was  a  period,  perhaps,  when 
the  ark  of  God  was  carried  out  into  a  hotter  battle, 
or  was  surrounded  by  fiercer  elements  of  antagonism. 
There  is,  for  instance,  idolatry ,  holding  six  hundred  mil¬ 
lions  of  our  race  in  thrall.  Idolatry,  which  has  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  banishing  from  their  perceptions  all  thought 
of  the  true  God — which  holds  all  that  vast  world  of 
mind  under  the  tyranny  of  the  vilest  passions,  and 
under  the  dark  and  sad  eclipse  both  of  intellectual  and 
spiritual  knowledge. 


12G 


SOLICITUDK  FOR  T 1 1 K  ARK  OF  GOD. 


There  is,  again,  imposture ,  reigning  in  Mohammedan 
realms  over  one  hundred  and  forty  millions  of  souls ; 
imposture,  accommodated  with  the  most  exquisite  inge¬ 
nuity  to  the  prejudices  of  the  population  among  which 
it  was  to  spread,  complimenting  Moses  to  cajole  the 
Jew,  speaking  respectfully  of  Jesus  to  seduce  the  nomi¬ 
nal  Christian,  offering  a  voluptuous  heaven  to  the 
licentious  Pagan,  and  gathering  in  the  indifferent  by 
the  wholesale  conversion  of  the  sword — imposture  thus 
founded  and  perpetuated  over  some  of  the  fairest  pro¬ 
vinces  of  the  globe  in  foul  and  ferocious  despotism  until 
now. 

There  is,  again,  superstition ,  the  corruption  of  Christi¬ 
anity  by  Greek  and  papal  admixtures,  blinding  the 
world  with  the  utter  falsehood  of  half  truths,  dazzling 
the  senses  and  emasculating  the  understanding,  traffick¬ 
ing  in  sin  as  in  merchandise,  and  selling  escape  from 
its  penalties  cheap.  Imposture,  under  whose  strange 
system  atheist  and  libertine,  infidel  and  Jew,  may 
join  hands  together  and  with  equal  rights  wear  the 
sacred  garments,  and,  in  robes  upon  which  the  cross  is 
broidered,  may  gather  together  to  make  war  against  the 
Lamb. 

There  is,  again,  skepticism,  that  cold  and  soulless 
thing,  that  mystery  of  iniquity,  which  doth  already 
work,  chilling  the  ardor  of  the  church  and  hardening 
the  unbelief  of  the  world — skepticism,  bribing  intellect 
to  sustain  it  with  sophistry,  and  genius  to  foster  its 
errors,  and  poetry  to  embalm  them  in  song — skepticism, 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


127 


that  travels  through  the  universe  in  search  of  truth 
and  beauty,  that  it  may  enfeeble  the  one  by  its  misgiv¬ 
ings,  and  blight  the  comeliness  of  the  other  by  its  wintry 
breath. 

All  these,  enemies  of  Christianity  from  the  beginning, 
and  retaining  their  ancient  hate  against  it,  now  are  the 
Philistines  of  its  spiritual  field.  They  are  not  content, 
as  in  former  times,  with  holding  their  own ;  they  have 
a  resolute  purpose  of  aggression.  They  have  habit,  and 
numbers,  and  prejudice  on  their  side ;  they  have  war¬ 
riors  and  a  priesthood,  zealous  and  valiant  in  their 
service.  They  have  no  chivalry  about  them  to  restrain 
them  from  any  style  of  warfare.  They  smart  under 
multiplied  defeats,  and  they  know  that  in  the  heart  of 
every  man  in  the  world  there  are  interests  and  sympa¬ 
thies  in  their  favor.  There  is  reason,  then,  is  there  not, 
for  that  cry,  “  Men  of  Israel,  help  !”  there  is  reason, 
strong  and  solemn  reason,  why  the  Elis  of  our  Israel 
should  sit  by  the  wayside,  watching,  for  their  hearts 
tremble  for  the  ark  of  God.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
enlarge  upon  this  point.  I  do  not  want  to  preach 
specially  to-night  in  reference  to  these  extraneous  mat¬ 
ters — matters,  I  mean,  extraneous  to  the  Church  of 
Christ,  which  hinder  the  progress  of  the  work  of  God  in 
the  world.  I  want  to  come  nearer  home  in  discussing 
our  second  point : 

II.  Just  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Israel,  so  it  is  now — 

TEE  ARK  OF  GOD  IS  IN  STRONGER,  DEEPER,  DEADLIER  PERIL 

from  its  friends.  Vainly  might  the  Philistines  have 


128 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


fought,  vainly  might  the  foe  have  striven,  if  there  had 
not  been  in  the  heart  of  the  camp  the  springs  of  deep 
and  destructive  evils,  if  the  chosen  children  of  Israel 
had  not  been  traitors  and  unworthy  of  themselves. 
And  there  are,  if  you  will  only  examine  into  the  subject, 
strange  analogies  subsisting  between  the  causes  which 
prevented  the  victory  of  Israel  of  old,  and  the  causes 
which  operate  with  such  fearful  disaster  against  the  pro¬ 
gress  of  the  truth  of  God  to-day. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  there  was  in  the  camp  of  Israel 
of  old  the  presence  of  superstition ,  a  blind  reliance  upon 
external  forms.  The  Israelites,  though  their  lives  were 
loose  and  their  devotions  therefore  inicpiity,  felt  safe  in 
the  prospect  of  the  battle,  because  they  had  the  presence 
of  the  ark.  At  other  times  they  cared  nothing  about  it, 
were  indifferent  altogether  as  to  its  welfare  ;  but  in  the 
hour  of  danger,  they  rallied  round  it  as  an  amulet  of 
strength,  and  in  place  of  contrition  before  God,  and  in 
place  of  liumblings  on  account  of  sin,  they  vaunted  that 
the  Lord  wTas  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  conveyed  what 
they  deemed  to  be  the  symbol  of  his  presence  with 
arrogant  and  obtrusive  gladness  to  the  camp.  And  it 
is  to  be  feared,  brethren,  that  there  is  much  of  this  vain 
and  formal  confidence  clogging  our  piety  now.  Are 
there  not  hanging  upon  our  skirts,  ostensibly  one  with 
us  in  fellowship  and  spirit,  many  of  whom  we  stand  in 
doubt  before  God,  and  over  whose  defective  consistency 
we  mourn  ?  Nay,  are  we  not  all  conscious,  each  for 
himself — let  the  spirit  of  searching  come  in — are  we  not 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  TIIE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


129 


all  conscious  of  compromise,  if  not,  indeed,  of  betrayal  ? 
Our  cliurch,  our  organization,  our  influence,  the  decorum 
of  our  services,  the  activity  of  our  agencies,  an  attractive 
ministry,  a  respectable  gathering,  a  well-furnished  sanc¬ 
tuary,  a  well-replenished  treasury — have  not  these 
stolen  our  hearts  away  from  the  Divine,  the  spiritual, 
the  heavenly?  Our  spirit — bounds  it  after  the  Divine 
Spirit  as  it  once  did  ?  Our  ear — listens  it  as  intently 
for  his  whispers  ?  Our  eye — has  it  as  keen  an  insight 
for  his  coming  ?  Or  is  the  very  symbol  of  his  dwelling, 
which,  in  the  olden  time,  transformed  the  wilderness 
from  the  sepulchre  into  the  home,  become  an  occasion 
of  sin,  if  not  an  object  of  idolatry  ?  Oh,  for  some  brave 
old  Hezekiah  to  come  amongst  us  and  write  ISTehuslitan 
upon  the  mutilated  brass,  and  break  it  into  pieces  before 
God !  Do  not  mistake  us ;  we  are  no  iconoclasts,  to 
dissolve  all  organizations,  and  mutilate  the  whole  and 
perfect  symmetry  of  truth,  and  with  distempered  zeal 
to  tear  away  the  inscriptions  on  her  holy  and  beautiful 
house.  We  rejoice  in  precious  ordinances,  and  crowded 
sanctuaries,  and  in  those  grand  institutions  of  benevo¬ 
lence  which  redeem  our  age  from  lethargy.  But  when 
the  trust  of  the  individual  or  of  the  church  is  placed  hi 
these  things,  God’s  Holy  Spirit  is  dishonored,  and  the 
life  of  our  religion  becomes  of  dwarfed  growth  and 
sickly  habit,  from  the  very  care  with  which  we  screen  it 
from  the  breath  of  heaven.  Brethren,  are  there  not  in 
the  Divine  Word  many  intimations  of  the  tendency  which 
we  now  deplore,  to  let  the  very  highest  and  holiest 

6* 


130 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


customs  degenerate  into  the  indifference  of  formalism  ? 
That  the  brazen  serpent  lifted  up  in  the  wilderness 
received  in  after  ages  idolatrous  homage,  I  have  already 
reminded  you.  And  such  was  the  danger  of  idolatry  to 
the  children  of  Israel,  that  God  would  not  trust  any  one 
of  them  to  be  present  at  the  funeral  of  their  great  law¬ 
giver.  Ho  human  eye  must  witness  liis  obsequies,  but, 
in  solitary  possession  of  his  God-prepared  sepulchre,  the 
lordly  lion  stalked,  and  the  bald  old  eagle  flew.  The 
combined  power  of  healing  and  of  speech  constrained 
the  worship  of  the  men  of  Lystra  for  the  Apostles  Bar¬ 
nabas  and  Paul.  Maltese  superstition,  which  had 
branded  him  as  a  murderer  whom  the  viper  stung,  in 
sudden  reaction  deified  him  when  he  declined  to  die. 
And  in  the  time  of  the  Saviour,  the  temple  had  become 
a  house  of  merchandise  ;  anise  and  cummin  were  of 
more  account  than  righteousness  and  truth,  and  enlarged 
phylacteries  and  public  prayers,  and  a  countenance  pre- 
ternaturally  sad,  were  the  low  and  degenerate  substi¬ 
tutes  for  a  renewed  heart  and  a  holy  life.  And,  bre¬ 
thren,  it  becomes  us  solemnly  to  be  on  our  guard  in  this 
matter,  for  the  same  tendency  exists  still.  The  formal 
and  the  careless  will  creep  into  our  worship,  and,  if  we 
are  not  watchful,  will  eat  out  the  heart  of  our  religion. 
If,  as  individuals,  our  trust  is  in  our  attendance  on 
religious  ordinances,  or  our  participation  of  sacramental 
emblems  and  our  fellowship  in  church  communion,  or 
the  comeliness  of  our  external  moralities,  and  if,  in  the 
strength  of  these,  unfurnished  with  the  higher  gifts  of 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


131 


tlie  Divine  Spirit,  we  go  out  to  dare  the  dangers  and 
fight  the  battles  of  our  daily  life  ;  and  if,  as  a  church,  as 
a  confederacy  of  Christian  people,  we  talk  about  our 
numbers,  and  our  agency,  and  our  influence,  what  are 
we  doing  but  perpetrating — perpetrating,  too,  with  still 
greater  aggravation  and  enormity — the  error  and  the 
sin  of  the  people  of  Israel  of  old?  We  carry  the  ark 
into  the  battle,  but  we  leave  the  God  of  the  ark  behind 
us ;  and  there  is  strong  and  solemn  need  that  the  Elis 
of  our  Israel  should  sit  by  the  wayside,  watching,  for 
their  hearts  tremble  for  the  ark  of  God. 

2.  I  observe,  secondly,  that  there  was  inconsistency 
in  the  camp  of  Israel.  The  times  were  times  of  apostasy 
and  of  idolatry ;  the  priests,  who  should  have  been  the 
leaders  of  the  people,  committed  abominable  iniquity ; 
there  were  sensuality  and  oppression  in  the  service  of 
the  holy  shrine,  so  that  men  abhorred  the  offering  of 
the  Lord,  and,  by  consequence,  the  whole  land  became 
infected  with  the  contagion  of  this  evil  example.  There 
was  still  an  affectation  of  reverence  for  the  sanctuary, 
and  of  attachment  to  the  ark ;  but  the  Lord  of  the 
sanctuary  and  the  God  of  the  ark  were  not  the  true 
objects  of  worship  and  of  love.  And  is  it  not  so  largely 
now?  Are  there  not  amongst  those  who  habitually 
gather  themselves  for  worship,  numbers,  not,  perhaps, 
consciously  insincere,  but  strangely  defective  ?  and 
numbers  more — spots  in  our  feasts  of  charity — who  come 
among  us  like  so  many  whited  sepulchres,  all  symmetiy 
without,  but  all  rottenness  within :  Achans,  whose 


132 


SOLICITUDE  FOE  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


rapacious  covetousness  can  hardly  hold  itself  from  the 
prey :  Reubens,  whose  unstable  souls  are  luring  them¬ 
selves  to  their  own  destruction  :  Judases,  wTith  fawning 
lip,  and  grasping  hand,  but  hiding  in  the  coward  heart 
the  guilty  purpose  of  betrayal?  Are  there  not  such 
amongst  us  ?  Yes,  there  are  those  who  intrude  them¬ 
selves  into  our  assemblies,  eluding  all  human  scrutiny, 
wearing  the  garb  of  sanctity,  and  remaining  in  their 
imposture,  perhaps,  until  some  overwhelming  pressure 
crushes  them,  and  brings  scandal  upon  the  cause  that 
they  have  dishonored.  And  in  public  life  are  wTe  not 
accustomed  to  hear  a  noisy  zeal  for  the  holy  name  of 
God  on  the  part  of  men  who  rarely  use  it  except  in 
imprecation  and  in  blasphemy — ostentatious  helpings- 
on  of  the  ark  by  those  in  whose  esteem  it  figures  only 
as  an  imposing  thing  for  public  procession,  or  as  a  relic 
of  sanctity  to  be  unveiled  to  the  curious  in  some  hour 
of  rejoicing  and  of  display  ?  Brethren,  this  inconsistency 
imperils  alike  our  own  salvation  and  the  progress  of  the 
cause  of  God.  The  Church  must  be  consistent,  every 
individual  in  the  Church  must  be  sincere  and  thorough 
in  his  piety,  before  the  work  is  done.  It  may  be,  or  it 
may  not  be,  that  there  is  the  hypocrite  here  to-night — 
the  systematic  and  habitual  impostor — who  has  assumed 
the  garb  of  godliness  that  ho  may  the  better  sin ;  if 
there  be,  in  God’s  name  let  him  forsake  his  hope,  for  it 
will  perish,  and  let  him  at  once,  before  the  hail  sweeps 
his  refuges  of  lies  away,  seek  mercy  of  that  Saviour 
whom  he  has  insulted  and  betrayed.  And  what  is  our 


SOLICITUDE  FOK  THE  AUK  OF  GOD. 


133 


condition?  Grey  hairs  have  come  upon  us,  signs  of 
feebleness,  tokens  of  lassitude  and  age,  and  we  have  not 
known  it.  Oh !  a  more  sincere  and  decisive  godliness 
is  wanted  from  us  all,  if  we  would  either  pass  untar¬ 
nished  through  the  terrible  temptations  of  the  world,  or 
be  found  worthy  to  bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord. 
Brethren,  we  must  resolve  that  whatever  of  insincerity 
may  have  attached  to  our  profession  shall  at  once  be 
forsaken,  and  that  we  will  from  this  time  forward,  God 
helping  us,  renew  our  baptismal  vows,  and  be  valiant 
for  the  truth  upon  the  earth.  If  in  our  pursuit  of  plea¬ 
sure  there  has  been  the  indulgence  of  frivolity,  and  per¬ 
haps  of  licentiousness — if  in  our  high-reaching  ambition 
for  renown  there  have  been  oppression  and  time-serv¬ 
ing,  and  the  concealment  of  principle,  and  practices  that 
are  corrupt  and  unworthy — if  in  our  labor  for  compe¬ 
tence  there  has  been  compliance  with  unhallowed  cus¬ 
tom,  or  complicity  with  wrong — if  we  have  followed 
the  maxims  of  trade,  rather  than  the  maxims  of  truth — 
if  there  has  been  over-reaching  and  cupidity  in  our 
commercial  life,  we  have  sinned,  and  our  profession  of 
religion  only  makes  our  sin  more  truly  scandalous,  and 
more  completely  sin.  And  it  behooves  us  all  now,  from 
this  very  hour,  to  put  away  the  sin  from  us  with  loath¬ 
ing,  and  fall  humbled  and  penitent  before  God.  We 
must  have  holiness — inner  and  vital  heart-holiness — if 
we  would  cleave  unto  the  Lord  with  full  purpose  of 
heart. 

Brethren,  when  I  see  out  in  the  broad  world  the 


m 


SOLICITUDE  FOE  TEE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


palpable  inconsistencies  of  professors  of  religion — a  man 
devout  in  the  sanctuary  and  detestable  at  home,  saintly 
on  the  Sabbath  and  sordid  all  the  week,  ostentatious  in 
the  enterprises  of  benevolence,  but  grinding  his  own 
workmen  and  tyrannical  to  the  poor — when  I  see  a 
man,  whose  citizenship  is  ostensibly  in  heaven,  distance 
the  keenest  worldling  around  him  in  the  race  of  fashion, 
or  in  the  strife  for  gold — when  I  see  a  man,  whose  reli¬ 
gion  teaches  the  divinest  charity,  censorious  in  his 
spirit,  and  narrow  in  his  soul — when  I  see  a  man,  to 
whom  God  has  given  a  fortune  in  stewardship,  grudging 
to  dispense  to  him  that  is  in  want ;  when  I  see  a  man, 
whose  Divine  Saviour  rebuked  his  own  disciples  for  in¬ 
tolerance,  professing  to  follow  his  footsteps,  and  yet 
harshly  excluding  thousands  from  his  fold ;  or  when  in 
the  world  of  opinion  I  see  religion  represented  as  vindi¬ 
cating  the  most  monstrous  atrocities,  as  preaching 
eternal  reprobation,  as  advocating  an  accursed  system 
of  slavery,  as  upholding  an  aggressive  war — what  have  I 
to  think  but,  as  it  wTas  in  the  days  of  ancient  Israel,  the 
ark  of  God  is  carried  out  by  the  uncircumcised  to  battle, 
and  there  is  need — strong,  solemn,  and  passionate  need 
— that  the  Elis  of  our  Israel  should  sit  upon  the  way- 
side,  watching,  for  their  hearts  tremble  for  the  ark  of 
God. 

3.  And  then  there  was,  in  the  third  place — and  it  is 
the  last  particular  that  I  shall  mention — there  was  in 
the  camp  of  ancient  Israel  indifference.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  there  was  not  a  sort  of  patriotism — a  natural 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


1S5 


and  common  wish  for  victory — a  desire  to  free  them¬ 
selves  from  the  Philistine  thrall.  But  patriotism,  to  be 
real  and  to  be  hallowed,  must  have  all-heartedness ; 
and  this  was  lacking.  They  had  no  confidence  in  their 
leaders ;  there  was  among  them  the  element  of  dis¬ 
union.  The  laxity  of  their  lives  had  of  necessity  en¬ 
feebled  somewhat  their  moral  principles,  so  that  the 
high  and  chivalrous  inspirations  of  the  true  lover  of  his 
country  were  emotions  that  were  above  them  and 
beyond  them.  Hence,  they  went  out  into  the  battle¬ 
field,  but  they  went  with  paralyzed  arms ;  conscience 
made  cowards  of  them,  and,  recreant  and  panic-stricken, 
they  fled  at  the  first  attack  of  the  foe.  And,  brethren, 
can  there  be  any  question  that  a  lack  of  whole-hearted 
earnestness  is  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  peril  to  the  ark 
of  God  to-day  ?  Oh,  if  Laodicea  is  to  be  the  type  of  the 
Church,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  world  sneers  and 
perishes !  If  religion,  clad  in  silken  sheen,  has  become 
a  patronized  and  fashionable  thing — a  something  that 
men  cleave  to  as  they  cleave  to  the  other  items  of  a  res¬ 
pectable  life — something  that  they  wear  as  a  sort  of 
armorial  bearing  for  which  they  pay  small  duty  either 
to  God  or  man — it  is  no  wonder  that  the  world  should 
be  heedless  of  the  message,  and  should  subside  into  the 
drowsy  monotony  in  which  the  messengers  dream  away 
their  lives.  Brethren,  the  poisonous  trees  do  little  harm 
in  the  vineyard;  they  are  uprooted  as  soon  as  they  are 
seen.  It  is  the  barren  trees,  that  cumber  the  ground 
and  mock  the  husbandman,  that  are  the  curses  of  the 


136 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  AUK  OF  GOD. 


vineyard  of  tlie  Lord.  Cases  of  flagrant  apostasy  bnt 
little  hinder  the  progress  of  the  work;  their  incon¬ 
sistency  is  so  palpable  and  manifest.  They  are  the  true 
liinderers,  under  the  shadow  of  whose  luxury,  and  idle¬ 
ness,  and  frivolity,  the  Church  sits  at  ease  in  Zion, 
while  they  are  eating  out  its  inner  life  as  the  vampire 
sucks  out  the  life-blood  of  the  victim  that  it  is  all  the 
while  fanning  with  its  wings.  Oh,  brethren,  we  need 
all  of  us  a  baptism  for  a  deeper  and  diviner  earnestness, 
that  we  may  bear  our  testimony  for  God.  We  are  a 
witnessing  Church ;  this  is  our  character  and  our  mis¬ 
sion.  But,  alas !  our  witness  has  sometimes  been  feeble 
and  has  sometimes  been  false.  We  have  been  altogether 
too  secular  and  too  selfish.  We  have  not  been  prophets 
— not  we ;  but  stammering,  hesitating,  blushing  child¬ 
ren,  ashamed  of  the  message  that  our  Father  has  bidden 
us  deliver.  We  have  sought  morality  rather  than  holi¬ 
ness,  serenity  rather  than  sacrifice,  smooth  things  to 
conciliate  the  world  rather  than  strong  things  to  conquer 
the  world.  We  have  been  content  to  grasp  all  the 
world’s  wealth  and  honor  that  we  could,  and  then,  in 
:he  great  wreck,  some  on  boards  and  some  on  broken 
pieces  of  the  ship,  to  get  ourselves  safe  to  land,  rather 
than,  freighted  with  heavenly  treasure,  to  cast  anchor 
in  the  fair  haven  with  colors  flying,  and  amid  the  glad 
welcome  of  the  multitudes  on  shore.  Oh,  there  is  room, 
brethren,  indeed  there  is,  for  the  taunt  of  the  infidel : 
“Ye  Christians  are  as  infidel  as  I  am;  ye  do  not  believe 
in  your  own  system;  if  you  did,  like  a  fire  in  your 


SOLICITUDE  FOR  THE  ARK  OF  GOD. 


137 


bones,  it  would  burn  you  into  action,  if  by  any  means 
you  might  save  some.”  Oil !  everything  around  us  is 
rebuking  this  lethargic  and  this  professional  piety. 
Everything  is  in  earnest — suns  in  their  constant  shining, 
and  rivers  in  their  ceaseless  flow ;  the  breeze  that  stops 
not  day  nor  night  to  bear  health  upon  its  wings,  the 
spring  tripping  up  the  winter,  the  seed-time  hastening 
on  the  harvest — all  are  activity,  faltering  not,  any  one 
of  them,  in  the  sure  and  steady  purpose  of  their  being. 
Error  is  in  earnest ;  Pagans  are  self-devoted ;  Mohamme¬ 
danism  has  her  resolute  and  valiant  sons ;  Popery  com¬ 
passes  sea  and  land  to  make  one  proselyte ;  infidels  walk 
warily  and  constantly,  scattering  the  seeds  of  unbelief. 
Society  is  in  earnest;  the  sons  of  enterprise  do  not 
slumber ;  the  warriors — how  they  hail  the  clarion  call, 
and  rush  eagerly  into  the  battle ;  the  students — how 
they  consume  the  oil  of  the  lamp  and  the  oil  of  life  to¬ 
gether  ;  Mammon’s  votaries — are  they  the  laggards  in  the 
streets  ?  Oh,  everything  around  us  seems  to  be  lashed 
into  intensest  energy,  while  we — ingrates  that  we  are, 
God  forgive  us ! — with  the  noblest  work  in  the  universe 
to  do,  and  the  most  royal  facilities  to  do  it  with ;  with 
the  obligations  of  duty,  and  gratitude,  and  brotherhood, 
and  fellowship  ;  with  the  vows  of  discipleship  upon  us  ; 
with  death  at  our  doors  and  in  our  homes ;  and  with  the 
sad,  wailing  sound,  as  if  it  came  from  places  where  men 
were  and  are  not:  “No  man  hath  cared  for  my  soul” 
— we  are  heedless  and  exclusive,  selfish  and  self- 
aggrandizing,  and,  worst  of  all,  as  self-satisfied  with  our 


138 


SOLICITUDE  FOP.  THE  AKK  OF  GOD. 


grudged  obedience,  and  our  scanty  effort,  and  our 
heartless  prayer,  as  if  no  sinners  were  in  peril  and  as 
if  no  Christ  had  died.  And  is  it  really  so  ?  Has  that 
mightiest  motive  lost  its  power?  Is  Mammon  really 
more  potent  than  Messiah  ?  Has  the  crucifix  a  holier 
inspiration  than  the  cross?  Is  it  true  that  war  can 
move  men’s  passions,  and  science  stimulate  their  souls, 
and  trade  intensify  their  energies,  and  ambition  flame 
their  blood  ?  and  is  Christianity  nothing  but  a  worn-out 
spell — a  dim  memorial  of  ancient  power — an  ex¬ 
tinguished  volcano,  with  no  fire  slumbering  in  its 
mighty  heart  ?  Is  it  true  ?  Thy  cross,  O  Jesus,  has  it 
lost  its  magnetism?  does  it  no  longer  draw  all  men 
unto  thee  ?  Thy  love,  O  Saviour,  boundless,  unfathom¬ 
able,  all-embracing,  doth  it  constrain  no  longer  the  souls 
for  whom  thy  blood  was  shed  ?  It  is  yours  to  answer 
these  questions ;  do  it  as  in  the  sight  of  God.  But,  oh  ! 
when  we  see  the  terrible  indifference  around  us — when 
we  see  the  awful  contrast  between  the  intensity  of  our 
beliefs  and  the  smallness  of  our  doings  for  Christ — what 
wonder  is  it  that  the  Elis  of  our  Israel,  who,  with  all 
their  faults,  feel  their  heart-strings  quiver  in  solicitude 
for  the  interests  of  Zion,  should  sit  by  the  wayside, 
watching,  because  their  hearts  tremble  for  the  ark  of 
God? 

May  God  the  Holy  Ghost  come  down,  and  write  these 
truths  upon  the  hearts  of  all,  for  his  name’s  sake  ! 


Y. 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CUEIST. 


“  Forasmuch  then  as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood, 
he  also  himself  likewise  took  part  of  the  same.” — Heb.  ii.  14. 


Some  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  in  the  land  of 
Judah,  and  in  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  a  strange  restless¬ 
ness  had  come  upon  the  public  mind.  If  a  stranger 
'  just  about  that  time  had  visited  the  Holy  City,  and 
had  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  inner  life  of  its 
inhabitants,  he  would  have  found  them  all  engrossed 
with  one  absorbing  theme.  It  had  superseded,  as 
matter  of  interest,  commerce,  and  conquest,  and  the 
intrigues  of  faction,  and  the  subjects  of  ordinary  poli¬ 
tics.  It  had  become  the  unconfessed  hope  of  matrons 
and  the  deep  study  of  earnest  men.  So  prevalently 
had  it  spread,  that  it  became  identified  with  every 
thinking  of  the  Hebrew  mind,  and  with  every  beating 
of  the  Hebrew  heart.  This  topic  was  the  advent  of  a 
Deliverer  who  had  been  promised  of  God  unto  their 
fathers.  Their  holy  books  contained  circumstantial 
directions,  both  as  to  the  signs  of  his  coming,  and  as 
to  the  period  about  which  he  might  be  expected  to 

139 


140 


TIIE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


appear,  and  these  various  prophecies  converged  to 
their  fulfillment.  There  were  rumors,  moreover,  of 
certain  meteoric  appearances,  which  in  Eastern  coun¬ 
tries  were  deemed  the  luminous  heralds  of  the  birth 
of  a  great  king  ;  and  the  heart  of  many  a  patriot  Jew 
would  throb  more  quickly,  as  in  his  vain  dream  of 
material  empire  lie  saw  the  Messiah,  already,  in  vision, 
triumphing  over  his  enemies,  and  his  followers  flushed 
with  the  spoil.  In  the  midst  of  this  national  expect¬ 
ancy,  events  of  strong  significance  were  occurring  in 
a  quarter  from  which  the  eyes  of  the  world  would  have 
turned  heedlessly  or  in  scorn.  The  national  census  was 
decreed  to  be  taken  throughout  the  Jewish  provinces 
of  the  Homan  empire  in  the  time  of  Augustus  Cmsar. 
In  obedience  to  the  imperial  enactment,  each  man,  with 
his  household,  went  up  for  enrollment  to  his  own — that 
is,  his  ancestral  city.  The  unwonted  influx  of  strangers 
had  crowded  the  little  inn  in  the  little  city  of  Bethle¬ 
hem,  one  of  the  least  among  the  thousands  of  Judah  ; 
so  that  the  out-buildings  were  laid  under  tribute  to 
furnish  shelter  to  later  comers.  In  the  stable  of  that 
mean  hostelry  a  young  child  was  born.  There  was 
nothing  about  him  to  distinguish  him  from  the  ordinary 
offspring  of  Jewish  mothers,  and  yet,  at  the  moment 
of  his  birth,  a  new  song  from  angel  harps  and  voices 
rang  through  the  plains  of  Bethlehem  and  ravished  the 
watchful  shepherds  with  celestial  harmonies.  Small 
space  had  passed  ere  wondering  peasants  beheld  a  star 
of  unusual  brightness  hovering  over  that  obscure  dwell- 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


141 


ing ;  and  by  and  by  the  inn  was  thrown  into  confusion 
by  the  arrival  of  a  company  of  foreigners  from  afar 
off — swarthy  and  richly  apparelled,  who  made  their 
way  to  the  stable  with  costly  gifts  and  spices,  which 
they  presented  to  the  new-born  babe,  and  bowed  the 
knee  before  him  in  homage,  as  to  a  royal  child.  .Rapidly 
flew  the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy — passed  from  lip  to 
lip,  until  the  whole  city  was  full  of  them — scorned  by 
haughty  Pharisees  with  scoffs  and  doubting — hailed 
with  devout  gladness  by  the  faithful  few  who  waited 
for  the  consolation  of  Israel — agitating  all  classes  of 
the  people — startling  the  vassal  monarch  on  his  throne 
— “Unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city  of  David  a 
Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord.” 

Brethren,  it  is  ours  in  this  day  to  rejoice  in  the  bless¬ 
ing  which  on  that  day  descended  on  mankind.  Blind¬ 
ness,  indeed,  hath  happened  unto  Israel,  so  that  they 
see  not  the  glorious  vision.  And  there  are  many  among 
ourselves  to  turn  away  their  eyes  from  the  sight.  But 
the  advent  of  the  Saviour  has  been  the  chiefest  joy  of 
the  multitudes  who  once  struggled  like  ourselves  on 
earth,  and  who  now  triumph  through  his  grace  in 
heaven ;  and  multitudes  more,  rejoicing  in  his  true 
humanity,  and  happy  in  their  brotherhood  with  Im¬ 
manuel,  cease  not  to  thank  God  for  the  unspeakable 
gift,  tli at,  “  forasmuch  as  the  children  are  partakers  of 
flesh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took  part  of 
the  same.” 

The  great  fact,  of  course,  which  the  Apostle  wishes 


142 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


to  impress  upon  us,  is  our  Saviour’s  assumption  of  hu¬ 
manity.  And  there  are  certain  salient  characteristics 
of  that  incarnation,  upon  which,  in  order  that  we  may 
have  it  presented  in  all  its  aspects  of  blessing  before 
our  minds,  we  may  not  unprofitably  dwell. 

I.  We  observe,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that  the 
Saviour’s  assumption  of  humanity  was  an  act  of  in¬ 
finite  condescension.  It  is  obviously  impossible  that 
the  language  in  which  the  Apostle  here  refers  to  Christ 
could  be  used  legitimately  of  any  being  possessed  essen¬ 
tially  of  the  nature  of  flesh  and  blood.  The  language 
before  us,  applied  to  any  mere  man,  even  the  holiest, 
even  the  most  heroic,  would  be  impertinent  and  with¬ 
out  meaning.  There  is  obviously  implied  the  fact  of 
his  preexistence,  and  of  his  preexistence  in  a  nature 
other  and  higher  than  that  which  he  assumed.  In  a 
subsequent  verse  the  implication  is  further  made,  that 
this  preexistence  was  in  a  nature  other  and  higher  than 
the  angelic.  For  in  his  descent  from  the  highest  to 
recover  and  save,  he  took  not  hold  on  angels — they 
perished  without  redemption  and  without  hope;  but 
he  took  hold  on  the  seed  of  Abraham.  In  the  former 
chapter  the  Apostle  rather  largely  illustrates  his  supe¬ 
riority  to  the  angel :  “  When  he  bringetli  in  the  first- 
begotten  into  the  world,  he  saitli,  Let  all  the  angels  of 
God  worship  him.”  Just  as  when  a  crown  prince  goes 
a  travel  into  some  foreign  realm,  all  the  choicest  of  the 
nobility  are  selected  to  wait  upon  his  bidding  and  fol¬ 
low  in  his  train,  so  when  lie  bringetli  his  first-begotten 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


143 


into  the  world — a  foreign  realm  to  him — he  says,  u  Let 
all  the  angels  of  God” — all  the  principalities  and  powers 
in  heavenly  places — worship,  bow  down  to,  wait  upon, 
minister  to  him.  Again,  “  of  the  angels  he  saith,  Who 
maketli  his  angels  spirits,  and  his  ministers  a  flame  of 
fire.  But  unto  the  Son  he  saith,  Thy  throne,  O  God, 
is  forever  and  ever ;  a  sceptre  of  righteousness  is  the 
sceptre  of  thy  kingdom.”  From  the  scope  and  tenor 
of  these  passages — indeed,  from  the  scope  and  tenor  of 
the  Apostle’s  entire  argument,  we  are  swift  to  conclude, 
and  we  are  bold  to  affirm,  the  proper  and  unoriginated 
Godhead  of  the  Saviour ;  that  it  was  God  made  man 
for  man  to  die.  Yes,  brethren,  that  stoop  of  illimitable 
graciousness  was  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  And 
in  mysterious  union  with  the  child-heart  of  that  uncon¬ 
scious  babe  the  veiled  Divinity  slumbered.  That  weary 
and  hungry  traveller  along  the  journey  of  life — it  was 
Jehovah’s  fellow  !  That  meek  sufferer  whose  head  is 
bowed  to  drink  the  cup  of  bitterness  to  the  dregs — it 
was  the  true  God,  and  eternal  life  !  Strange  marriage 
between  the  finite  and  the  infinite ;  incomprehensible 
union  between  the  divine  and  human  ! 

There  are  scoffers  in  the  world,  I  know,  who  dismiss 
the  mystery  of  the  incarnation,  and  deride  it  as  the  fig¬ 
ment  of  fancy,  or  as  the  vision  of  fanaticism.  They  are 
of  two  kinds  mostly :  some  who  try  everything  by  the 
standard  of  their  own  ideas,  and  who  exalt  their  own 
reason — at  best  of  no  great  tallness,  and  which  preju¬ 
dice  has  dwarfed  into  yet  pigmier  stature — into  abso- 


144:  THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 

lute  dictatorship  over  the  realm  of  mind ;  and  others 
more  degraded,  who  seek  a  license  for  their  desperate 
wickedness  amidst  the  skepticisms  of  a  still  more  des¬ 
perate  infidelity,  who  dismiss  the  narrative  of  the  in¬ 
carnation  because  it  is  a  mystery,  something  that  is  not 
patent  to  the  senses,  which  they  aver  to  be  the  only 
means  of  knowledge.  All  the  while  they  live  in  a 
mysterious  world  where  there  are  thousands  of  secrets 
which  their  hearts  cannot  unravel.  In  the  ordinary 
resources  of  life,  in  the  daily  benefits  which  Providence 
pours  forth  ungrudgingly,  they  take  their  churlish  share 
of  blessings  whose  wherefore  they  understand  not.  They 
are  themselves  a  mystery,  perhaps,  greater  than  aught. 
They  cannot,  any  one  of  them,  understand  that  subtile 
organism  which  they  call  man,  nor  how  that  strange 
essence  or  principle,  which  they  call  life,  floods  them 
every  moment  with  rapture ;  and  yet,  with  marvellous 
inconsistency,  credulous  on  matters  where  no  mysterv 
might  be  expected  to  abide,  they  are  skeptical  in  mat¬ 
ters  where  mystery  exists  of  necessity,  and  where  the 
absence  of  it  would  be  a  suspicious  sign  :  “  Por  canst 
thou  by  searching  find  out  God  ;  canst  thou  find  out 
the  Almighty  unto  perfection  ?” 

Brethren,  the  incarnation  of  Christ  is  a  mystery — an 
inexplicable  and  solemn  mystery.  But  were  there  no 
mystery,  on  the  other  hand,  think  you,  in  the  event  of 
Christ  being  a  mere  man?  ITow  stands  the  case? 
There  is  an  individual  obscurely  born  ;  reared  in  vil¬ 
lage  humbleness ;  looked  on  by  his  kindred  according 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


145 


to  the  flesh  with  coldness,  if  not  with  dislike ;  with  no 
aristocratic  connections,  with  no  noble  patronage  ;  tell¬ 
ing  to  all  to  whom  he  ministered,  with  a  strange  can¬ 
dor,  that  he  required  absolute  service ;  that  he  had  no 
preferments  in  his  gift ;  that  he  had  no  bribes  to  win 
the  allegiance  of  the  sordid ;  that  it  was  more  than 
likely,  if  they  followed  him,  that  they  would  have  to 
forsake  all  else,  to  part  at  once  with  all  that  was  lucra¬ 
tive  and  all  that  was  endearing ;  to  be  secluded  from 
ecclesiastical  privilege  ;  to  be  traduced  by  slander  ;  to 
be  hunted  by  persecution  ;  nay,  to  hold  life  cheap,  for 
whosoever  killed  them,  in  the  blind  zeal  of  his  partisan¬ 
ship,  thought  he  had  done  God  service.  ISTow,  look  at 
that  individual.  In  spite  of  all  these  disadvantages,  by 
the  mere  force  of  his  teaching  and  of  his  life,  he  gathers 
a  multitude  of  followers ;  charms  the  fisher  from  the 
lake  ;  charms  the  soldier  from  the  standard ;  charms — 
strangest  of  all — the  publican  from  the  loved  seat  of 
custom  ;  and  not  only  these,  wdio  might,  perhaps,  be 
imagined  to  risk  little  by  the  venture,  but  charms  the 
physician  from  his  practice,  the  scholarly  student  from 
the  feet  of  his  master,  the  ruler  from  his  pride  and 
luxury,  the  honorable  counsellor  from  the  deliberations 
of  the  Sanhedrim.  The  chief  authorities  combine 
against  him  ;  but  his  doctrine  spreads.  Ilis  name  is 
attainted  as  a  traitor  ;  but  he  is  held  dearer  than  ever. 
Ilis  death  gratifies  his  bloodthirsty  and  relentless  foes  ; 
but  his  disciples  rally,  and  his  cause  lives  on.  Ilis 
tomb  is  jealously  guarded  and  hermetically  sealed,  but 


146 


TEE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


it.  is  somehow  found  empty  notwithstanding.  lie  shows 
himself  alive  by  many  infallible  proofs.  He  soars,  after 
forty  days,  from  the  crest  of  a  mountain,  and  he  has 
established  an  empire  in  the  minds  of  thousands  upon 
thousands,  which  promises  to  be  extensive  as  the  world, 
and  to  be  permanent  as  time.  And  you  ask  us  to  be¬ 
lieve  that  all  this  could  be  accomplished  by  the  unaided 
resources  of  a  mere  man  like  ourselves !  Were  not 
that  a  mystery  than  all  other  mysteries  greater  and  sur¬ 
passing  far?  Then,  look  at  that  individual  in  the  days 
of  his  flesh.  lie  exerts,  on  the  testimony  of  numerous 
and  unexceptionable  witnesses,  miraculous  power.  lie 
has  power  over  the  elements,  for  the  winds  are  still  at 
his  bidding,  and  the  lawless  sea  obeys  him.  He  has 
power  over  inorganic  matter  and  over  vegetable  life, 
for  he  blasts  the  fig-tree  by  a  syllable,  and  five  loaves 
and  two  fishes  swell  up,  as  he  speaks,  into  a  royal  re¬ 
past  for  full  five  thousand  men.  lie  has  power  over 
the  ferocious  passions,  for  he  strikes  down  the  advancing 
soldiery,  and  at  his  glance  the  foul  demoniac  is  still. 
He  has  power  over  sickness,  for  the  numbed  limbs  of 
the  paralytic  quicken,  as  he  speaks,  into  strengthened 
manhood,  and  the  leprosy  scales  off  from  its  victim, 
and  leaves  him  comely  as  a  child.  Tie  has  power  over 
death,  for  at  his  word  the  maiden  rises  from  her  shroud; 
and  the  young  man  stops  at  the  gate  of  the  city  to  greet 
his  mercy  on  his  way  to  burial ;  and  weeping  sisters 
clasp  their  ransomed  brother,  a  four  days’  dweller  in 
the  tomb.  And  you  ask  us  to  believe  that  all  this  can 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


147 


have  been  accompli slied  by  the  unaided  resources  of  a 
mere  man  like  ourselves !  W ere  not  that  a  mystery 
than  all  other  mysteries  greater  and  surpassing  far  ? 
“Ah,”  but  say  some,  “he  was  a  good  man,  we  acknow¬ 
ledge  ;  a  great  teacher,  a  model  man,  a  representative 
man,  the  highest  man,  God  specially  honored  him.  He 
may  almost  be  said,  indeed,  to  have  had  an  inferior  and 
derived  Divinity.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  he 
should  thus  perform  miracles,  and  that  he  should  thus 
have  founded  a  dominion.”  Nay,  pardon  me,  but  this 
only  deepens  the  mystery,  for  this  model  man,  whose 
frown  was  dismissal  from  his  presence,  of  whose  inimit¬ 
able  morals  Rousseau,  the  infidel,  said,  that  if  the  life 
and  deatli  of  Socrates  were  those  of  an  angel,  the  life 
and  death  of  Jesus  were  those  of  a  God — this  model 
man  claimed  all  his  life  to  be  Divine,  made  the  impres¬ 
sion  of  his  pretensions  upon  the  minds  of  the  Jews  so 
strong  that  ihey  stoned  him  for  blasphemy,  received 
Divine  lion  ors  without  once  rebuking  the  offerers, 
“  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,”  and 
distinctly  predicted  that  he  should  come  again  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven.  Oh,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  cannot  pos¬ 
sibly  be  simply  a  good  and  benevolent  man.  There  is 
no  escape  from  this  alternative — no  middle  position  in 
which  he  can  abide — he  is  either  an  impostor  or  God. 
Now,  unbeliever,  you  who  dismiss  the  mystery  of  the 
incarnation,  and  treat  it  with  solemn,  scorn  or  with  de¬ 
risive  laughter,  solve  this  mystery  of  your  own.  You 
pass  through  life  in  your  pride  and  in  your  skepticism, 


148 


TOE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


scouting  tliis  mystery  of  Godhead,  and  yet  shut  up  to 
the  far  greater  mystery — either  a  good  man  who  has 
spoken  falsehood,  or  an  impostor  who  has  cheated  the 
world.  But  we,  with  reverent  trust,  and  from  the 
lowest  depth  from  which  gratitude  can  spring,  can  say, 
“  Great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness,  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh.” 

II.  I  observe,  secondly,  tiie  Saviour’s  assumption  of 

HUMANITY  WAS  NOT  ONLY  CONDESCENDING,  BUT  VOLUN¬ 
TARY.  This,  indeed,  follows  inevitably  from  the  fore¬ 
gone  conclusion  of  his  Divinity.  Being  Divine,  he 
could  be  under  no  restraint  of  overwhelming  necessity. 
To  accommodate  the  theological  language  to  human 
infirmity,  we  are  apt  to  speak  of  God  sometimes  as  if 
influenced  by  external  things.  But  really  it  is  not  so  ; 
every  Divine  act  is  spontaneous  and  self-originating. 
Jesus  Christ,  therefore,  could  be  under  the  bond  of  no 
possible  obligation.  Law  was  himself  in  spoken  precept. 
Justice  was  himself  engraven  on  the  universe.  Mercy 
was  himself,  the  radiation  of  his  own  loving-kindness 
upon  his  people.  Every  decision  of  wisdom,  every 
administration  of  physical  government,  every  act  of 
omnipotence,  was  his  own ;  not  in  independent  action, 
but  in  the  harmonious  union  of  the  Divine  nature.  It 
is  manifest,  so  far  as  his  Divine  nature  was  concerned, 
that  his  assumption  of  humanity  must  have  been  dis¬ 
interested  and  voluntary ;  the  strong  upwelling  of  his 
tenderness  for  the  hapless  creatures  he  had  made. 
There  is  something  in  the  spontaneity  of  his  offering 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


149 


which  redeems  it  from  the  suspicion  of  injustice,  and 
which  vindicates  the  Father  from  the  accusations  of 
those  who  charge  him  with  vindictiveness  and  cruelty. 
It  would  seem,  indeed,  as  if  the  Saviour  had  foreseen, 
in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  that  there  would  rise  auda¬ 
cious  rebels,  who  would  thus  cast  a  slur  upon  his 
Father’s  kindness,  for  he  defends  him  by  antici¬ 
pation:  “Therefore  doth  my  Father  love  me,  because 
I  lay  down  my  life,  that  I  might  take  it  again.  Ho 
man  taketh  it  from  me,  but  I  lay  it  down  of  myself.  1 
have  power  to  lay  it  down,  and  I  have  power  to  take  it 
again.” 

But  as  to  the  human  nature  which  vicariously  suf¬ 
fered,  you  remember  that  at  the  time  there  was  the 
proposition  of  incarnation,  there  was  also  the  proposi¬ 
tion  of  equivalent  recompense.  The  promise  of  the  joy 
was  coeval  with  the  prospect  of  suffering.  Hence  the 
Apostle:  “Who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  him 
endured  the  cross,  despising  the  shame.”  A  world  ran¬ 
somed  from  the  destroyer,  a  mediatorial  kingdom  erected 
upon  the  ruins  of  earth’s  spoiled  thrones,  a  name  that 
is  above  every  name,  honored  in  heaven  by  prostrate 
obedience  and  undying  song,  honored  on  earth  by  every 
confessing  lip  and  every  bending  knee — -this  was  the 
joy  set  before  him ;  and  for  the  sake  of  all  this  he 
endured  patiently  the  cross,  despised,  looked  down  with 
holy  contempt  upon,  mysterious  and  inconceivable 
shame.  Besides,  there  can  be  no  availableness  in 
exacted  suffering.  There  is  something  in  the  vgluntari- 


150 


THE  INC AKN ATION  OF  CHRIST. 


ness  of  the  incarnation  which  at  once  exalts  our  reve¬ 
rence  and  augments  our  affection  for  our  Surety  and 
Friend.  We  judge  of  the  excellency  of  virtue  by  the 
willingliood  with  which  it  is  practised.  We  cannot 
enter  into  a  proper  comparison,  because  we  are  all  under 
the  bond  of  one  common  obligation  ;  but  we  all  know 
that  the  virtue  shines  the  most  brightly  which  is  prac¬ 
tised  amidst  hazard  and  suffering,  rather  than  that 
which  is  accorded  where  duty  is  inviting,  and  where 
obedience  is  profitable.  Viewed  in  this  light,  what  a 
wealth  of  disinterested  generosity  there  is  in  the  incar¬ 
nation  of  Christ.  The  voice  was  heard  from  the  midst 
of  the  throne  :  “  Here  I  am  ;  send  me.  Lo  I  come.  In 

the  volume  of  the  book  it  is  written  of  me,  to  do  thv 

'  «/ 

will,  O  my  God.”  In  another  passage :  “  I  delight  to 
do  thy  will.”  How,  just  think  of  what  the  will  of  God 
in  this  instance  comprehended.  The  veiling  the  essen¬ 
tial  glory,  the  tabernacling  in  human  flesh,  the  home¬ 
less  wandering,  the  pangs  of  desertion  and  treachery, 
the  abhorred  contact  with  evil,  the  baptism  of  fire, 
beside  the  crown  of  sorrow,  the  dread  hiding  of  the 
Father’s  countenance  in  portentous  eclipse.  And  into 
this  more  than  Egyptian  darkness  Jesus  delighted  to 
enter,  for  the  sake  of  fallen  man.  When  he  assumed 
the  form  of  a  servant,  and,  actually  incarnate,  entered 
upon  the  work  of  redemption,  it  was  with  no  reluctant 
step,  in  no  hireling  spirit.  It  was  his  meat  and  his 
drink ;  as  necessary  and  pleasing  to  him  as  his  daily 
sustenance,  to  do  the  will  of  his  Father  which  was  in 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


151 


heaven.  Steadily  pursuing  one  purpose,  he  was  heed¬ 
less  of  all  that  hindered ;  he  felt  irrepressible  longings 
for  its  accomplishment ;  and  his  soul  was  like  a  prisoned 
bird  that  dashes  itself  for  freedom  against  the  grating 
of  the  cage :  “  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with  ; 
how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished.”  Steadily 
pursuant  of  that  purpose,  he  was  heedless  of  all  that 
hindered.  Now  passing  through  a  threatening  mob, 
now  turning  from  an  offered  crown,  now  resisting  wisely 
the  temptations  of  the  enemy,  now  casting  behind  him 
the  more  dangerous,  because  more  affectionate  remon¬ 
strances  of  his  disciples,  and  now  repelling  the  sugges¬ 
tive  aid  of  twelve  legions  of  angels  from  heaven.  Oh, 
as  sinners  like  ourselves,  at  far  off,  reverent  distance, 
watch  him  in  his  redemptive  course — as,  one  wave  after 
another  wave,  the  proud  waters  go  over  his  soul,  and 
he  dashes  off  the  spray,  and  holds  on  his  course,  unfal¬ 
tering  and  steady,  to  the  end — with  what  depth  of 
gratitude  should  we  render  him  the  homage  of  our 
hearts,  and  with  what  earnestness  and  self-accusation 
should  we  take  to  ourselves  the  burden  of  every 
melancholy  sigh ! 

“  For  all  his  wounds  to  sinners  cry*— 

I  suffered  this  for  you.” 

III.  I  observe,  thirdly,  the  Saviour’s  assumption  of 

HUMANITY  WAS  NOT  ONLY  CONDESCENDING  AND  VOLUN¬ 
TARY,  but  it  was  complete.  It  was  no  mock  assump¬ 
tion  of  humanity.  The  whole  nature  was  taken  on. 


152 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


He  liad  a  human  body  with  all  its  infirmities ;  he  had  a 
human  soul  with  its  completeness  of  faculty  and  its 
capability  of  endurance,  with  its  every  capacity,  with 
its  every  affection.  There  were  three  reasons  which 
seemed  to  render  this  entire  assumption  of  human 
nature  necessary.  It  was  necessary,  first,  because  the 
man  had  sinned,  and  upon  the  man,  therefore  must 
come  the  brand  of  Jehovah’s  displeasure.  It  was  neces¬ 
sary,  secondly,  that  the  world  might  have  the  best  and 
utmost  manifestation  of  God,  and  that  humanity,  too 
gross  and  bewildered  to  comprehend  ideas  that  were 
purely  spiritual,  might  see  in  the  Incarnate  Son  the 
highest  embodied  possibility  of  being.  It  was  neces¬ 
sary,  thirdly,  that  the  felt  need  of  the  people  in  all  ages 
of  the  world’s  history  might  be  supplied — the  need  of 
perfect  pureness  allied  to  perfect  sympathy — of  the 
strength  which  was  omnipotent  to  deliver,  married  to 
the  tenderness  that  was  brave  and  deep  to  feel.  The 
complete  humanity  of  Jesus  has  been  attested  by  abun¬ 
dant  authentications.  In  every  legitimate  sense  of  the 
word  he  was  a  man  with  man.  lie  did  not  take  our 
sinful  nature  upon  him ;  that  is  only  an  inseparable 
accident  of  humanity ;  it  came  in  after  the  creation, 
and  it  should  go  out  before  the  end.  Therefore,  in 
every  legitimate  sense  of  the  word,  he  was  man  with 
man.  He  was  born  helpless  as  other  children  are.  His 
early  years  were  spent  in  the  house  o  his  reputed 
father,  working  at  his  handicraft  for  bread.  He  grew 
in  wisdom  and  in  stature  as  other  children  grow ;  not  at 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


153 


once,  but  by  the  slow  ripening  of  years  developed  into 
the  maturity  of  man.  When  he  entered  on  his  public 
ministry  and  went  out  among  his  fellows,  he  sustained, 
as  they  did,  the  relationships  of  mutual  dependence 
and  help.  He  was  no  self-elected  reformer.  lie  was 
no  turbulent  inflamer  of  unholy  passions.  Faulty  as 
was  the  government  under  which  he  lived,  he  was  a 
loyal  subject,  paid  the  tribute  money  without  murmur¬ 
ing,  and  submitted  himself  to  every  ordinance  of  man. 
He  was  no  dark  ascetic ;  he  was  a  brother  of  the  multi¬ 
tudes,  mingling  in  all  the  grief  and  cheerfulness  of  life. 
If  men  invited  him  to  their  houses,  he  went  and  sat 
down  with  them  at  their  boards.  If  they  asked  him  to 
their  marriage  festivals,  he  graced  them  with  his  pre¬ 
sence,  and  turned  the  water  into  wine ;  and  mingled  his 
tears  with  theirs  when  the  light  of  their  homes  was 
quenched,  and  when  some  loved  one  was  suddenly 
withdrawn.  His  care  for  them  who  trusted  him  ceased 
not  with  his  own  danger,  for,  having  loved  his  own,  he 
loved  them  to  the  end.  His  filial  affection  was  conspi¬ 
cuous  throughout  every  part  of  his  life,  and  shone 
radiant  as  a  star  through  the  darkness  of  his  agony. 
He  was  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  How  is  it  that  you 
identify  him  with  our  nature  ?  What  are  the  peculiar 
characteristics  by  which  you  understand  that  such  a 
one  is  partaker  of  humanity?  Hoes  human  nature 
hunger  ?  He  hungered  in  the  plain  where  the  delusive 
fig-tree  grew.  Does  human  nature  thirst?  He  felt  the 
pang  sharply  upon  the  cross.  Is  human  nature  wearied 

7* 


154 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


under  tlie  pressure  of  travelling  and  of  toil  ?  He  sat 
thus  upon  the  well.  Does  human  nature  weep  unbid¬ 
den  tears  ?  Pity  wrung  them  from  him  as  he  gazed 
upon  the  fated  and  lost  Jerusalem ;  and  sorrow  wrung 
them  from  him  at  the  grave  where  Lazarus  lay.  Does 
human  nature  shrink  and  fear  in  the  prospect  of  im¬ 
pending  trial,  cowering  beneath  the  apprehended  peril, 
and  pray  that  dread  pangs  may  be  spared  it  ?  In  the 
days  of  his  flesh,  when  lie  poured  out  his  supplications 
with  strong  crying  and  tears,  “  he  was  heard,  in  that  he 
feared.”  lie  was  the  man  Christ.  Come,  ye  seekers 
after  the  sublime,  behold  this  man — marred  enough  by 
sorrow,  but  not  at  all  by  sin  ;  decorated  with  every 
grace,  yet  disfigured  by  no  blemish  of  mortality ;  ray¬ 
ing  out  warmth  and  life  into  the  hearts  and  homes  of 
men ;  witli  not  an  act  that  you  can  trace  up  to  selfish¬ 
ness,  and  not  a  word  that  you  can  brand  as  insincere ; 
with  his  whole  life  of  kindness,  and  his  death  an  expia¬ 
tion — behold  the  Divine  Man !  Talk  of  the  dignity  of 
human  nature — it  is  there,  and  you  can  find  it  nowhere 
in  the  universe  beside.  “  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the 
pomp  of  power,”  the  skill  to  make  canvas  speak  or 
marble  breathe,  or  to  play  upon  men’s  hearts  as  upon  a 
harp  of  many  tunes,  the  mad  ambition  that  would  climb 
to  fame  by  slopes  where  the  trampled  lie,  and  where 
the  red  rain  drops  from  many  a  heart’s  blood — what  are 
their  claims  to  his?  Hush,  ye  candidates  for  greatness, 
and  let  him  speak  alone.  Erase  meaner  names  from 
thy  tablets,  thou  applauding  world,  and  chronicle  this 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


155 


name  instead.  Slirine  it  in  your  living  hearts,  those  of 
you  who  trust  in  his  atonement,  and  who  come  by  his 
mediation  unto  God ;  grave  it  there,  deeper  than  all 
other  names — the  man  Christ  Jesus. 

IV.  I  observe,  fourthly,  the  incarnation  of  the 
Saviour  was  not  only  condescending,  and  voluntary, 

AND  COMPLETE,  BUT  IT  WAS  ALSO,  AND  CHIEFLY,  ATONING. - 

The  great  purpose  for  which  he  came  into  the  world 
could  not  be  properly  accomplished  but  through  death. 
It  was  through  death  that  he  was  to  destroy  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil.  Intimations 
of  this  had  come  previously  into  the  world,  in  the 
visions  of  seers,  from  the  lips  of  prophets,  in  the  adum¬ 
brations  and  typical  shadowings  of  some  great  Offerer, 
who,  in  the  end  of  the  world,  should  appear  to  put  away 
sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself.  All  other  purposes,  how¬ 
ever  separably  noticeable,  become  subordinate  and  sub¬ 
sidiary  to  this.  Hence  Christ  did  not  become  partaker 
of  flesh  and  blood  that  he  might  give  to  the  world  a 
spotless  example.  Although  holiness,  illustrious  and 
unspotted,  does  beam  out  from  every  action  of  his  life, 
he  was  not  incarnate  in  order  that  he  might  impress 
upon  the  world  the  teachings  of  pure  morality;  although 
such  were  the  spirituality  of  his  lessons,  and  the  power 
wUh  which  he  taught  them,  that  “  never  man  spake 
like  this  man.”  He  did  not  assume  our  nature  merely 
that  he  might  work  his  healing  wonders,  showing, 
before  the  bleared  vision  of  the  world,  omnipotence  in 
beneficent  action.  All  these  things,  however  separably 


156 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


noticeable,  were  not  vast  enough  or  grand  enough  to 
have  brought  the  Saviour  from  heaven.  Miracles,  pre¬ 
cepts,  kindnesses,  all  these  were  collateral  blessings — 
flowers  that  sprung  up,  as  at  the  tread  of  the  fabled, 
goddess,  wherever  he  appeared.  Large  and  full  in  his 
sight,  through  all  the  ye&rs  of  his  incarnate  life,  more 
distinctly,  more  vividly,  in  the  last  years  of  his  ministry, 
loomed  the  shadow  of  the  figure  of  the  cross  :  “  That  is 
the  end  of  my  toil ;  that  is  the  consummation  of  my 
purpose.  I  am  straitened  till  I  get  to  that ;  I  have  not 
fulfilled  my  mission  and  expressed  all  the  Divine  energy 
that  I  am  to  pour  out  upon  the  world  until  I  reach  that. 
There  is  the  goal  of  all  my  endeavors  5  there  I  see 
my  true  office  before  me  —  the  surety  of  insolvent 
humanity,  the  friend  of  a  forsaken  race,  the  refuge  and 
succor  of  endangered  man.”  If  you  will  think  for  a 
while,  you  will  see  how  all  the  other  characteristics  of 
the  incarnation  converged  here,  and  were  each  of  them 
necessary  in  order  to  give  this,  the  master-purpose,  its 
efficacy  and  its  power.  It  was  necessary  that  a  being 
of  holy  estate  should  condescend,  Divinity  sustaining 
humanity  under  the  pressure  of  agony,  and  imparting  to 
humanity  a  plenitude  of  atoning  meritoriousness.  It 
was  necessary  that  the  offering  should  be  voluntary, 
because  there  could  be  no  availableness  in  exacted  suf¬ 
fering  ;  and  the  offering  must  be  profoundly  willing 
before  it  could  be  infinitely  worthy.  It  was  necessary 
that  the  whole  nature  should  be  taken  on,  because  the 
man  had  sinned  and  the  man  must  die ;  and  as 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


157 


humanity,  in  its  federal  representative,  the  first  Adam, 
had  been  drawn  to  death,  so  humanity,  in  its  federal 
representative,  the  second  Adam,  might  have  the  free 
gift  coming  upon  all  men  unto  justification  of  life. 

Now,  you  see  how  far  wre  have  got  in  our  search  for 
an  accepted  propitiation.  We  have  got  a  willing  vic¬ 
tim.  We  have  got  a  willing  victim  in  the  nature  that 
had  sinned  ;  we  have  got  a  willing  victim  in  the  nature 
that  had  sinned  with  no  obligation  of  his  own,  and  all 
whose  merit,  therefore,  could  be  to  spare  for  the  redemp¬ 
tion  of  the  sinner.  Justice  herself  required  only  another 
exaction,  and  that  is,  that  this  willing  victim  should  be 
free  from  taint,  whether  of  hereditary  or  actual  crime. 
Now,  the  miraculous  conception  freed  from  the  heredi¬ 
tary  taint  of  human  nature ;  and,  thus  freed  from 
hereditary  defilement,  he  was  born,  not  of  blood,  not  in 
the  ordinary  method  of  human  generation,  nor  of  the 
wall  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God. 
And  he  moved  about  in  the  midst  of  his  fellows  in  an 
atmosphere  of  impurity,  yet  escaping  its  contagion. 
Like  the  queenly  moon  shining  down  upon  the  haunts 
of  beggars,  and  dens  of  thieves,  yet  preserving  its 
chastity  and  its  brilliance  unimpaired,  he  moved  among 
the  scum  and  offscouring  of  human  society,  and  could 
say,  “  Which  of  you  convicteth  me  of  sin  ?”  He  was 
holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  separate  from  sinners ;  evoking 
from  heaven  its  attesting  thunders  ;  charming  the  won¬ 
dering  earth  with  spotlessness  which  it  had  never  seen 
before  ;  and  (crown  of  triumph  !)  wringing  from  batfied 


158 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


demons  the  reluctant  acknowledgment,  “We  know  thee 
who  thou  art,  the  Holy  One  of  God.”  Here,  then,  is 
the  perfected  offering — a  willing  victim ;  a  willing 
victim  in  the  nature  that  had  sinned,  and  free  from 
taint,  free  from  obligation,  man’s  eternal  Saviour,  God’s 
incarnate  Son.  Follow  him  in  the  shadow  of  his  pas¬ 
sion.  Close  upon  the  agony  of  Gethsemane  came  his 
arrest  by  the  treachery  of  one  whom  he  had  honored. 
Patiently  he  bears  the  ribaldry  and  insult  in  the  dis¬ 
honored  judgment-hall  of  Pilate.  Wearily  he  treads 
the  pathway  to  Calvary,  bearing  his  own  cross.  How, 
the  cross  is  reared.  The  multitude  are  gathered  about 
the  hill  of  shame.  The  nails  are  fastened  into  the 
quivering  flesh ;  and  in  agony  and  torture  ebbs  his  pure 
life  away.  The  last  ministering  angel  leaves  him,  for  he 
must  tread  the  wine-press  alone.  Darkness  gathers  sud¬ 
denly  round  ;  and — oh,  mystery  of  mystery  ! — the 
Father  hides  his  face  from  the  Beloved.  Darkness 
deepens  in  the  sky  and  in  the  mind — how  long,  the 
affrighted  gazers  know  not,  A  cry  bursts  through  the 
gloom,  sharp,  shrill,  piercing.  All  is  silent — it  is 
finished  !  The  night,  that  had  climbed  up  strangely  to 
the  throne  of  noon,  as  suddenly  dispersed.  The  multi¬ 
tude,  that  eager  and  wondering  had  gathered  round  the 
hill  of  shame,  separated  to  their  several  homes,  talking 
about  the  tragedy  they  had  witnessed.  The  moon  rose 
on  high  as  calmly  as  if  the  sun  had  not  set  on  a  scene  of 
blood.  But,  oh !  what  a  change  those  few  hours  had 
wrought  in  the  fortunes  of  the  world.  Christ  had  died, 


TIIE  INCARNATION  OF  CIIRIST. 


159 


tlie  just  for  tho  unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  God. 
Go,  tell  it  to  that  despairing  sinner — that  man,  I  mean, 
who  has  the  cord  about  his  neck,  and  the  pistol  at  his 
throat,  who  is  just  about  to  escape  from  the  terrible  liar- 
rowings  of  an  alarmed  conscience,  by  the  dreadful  alter¬ 
native  of  self-murder.  Go  to  him ;  be  quick  ;  tell  him 
he  need  not  die,  for  Christ  has  died,  has  died  to  bear  his 
sins  away.  Proclaim  salvation  from  the  Lord  for 
wretched  dying  men.  Sound  it  out  from  the  summit 
of  that  liill-side  of  Calvary,  and  let  the  sister  hills  echo 
it,  until  round  the  earth  has  spread  the  rapturous 
hosanna — Salvation !  Go  with  it  to  the  wretched,  and 
miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked;  it  is  just  the 
thing  they  need— -Salvation !  Ping  it  out  through  every 
avenue  of  this  vast  metropolis  of  a  world,  till  it  rouse 
the  slumbering  dust,  and  awake  the  coffined  dead — 
Salvation  !  Take  it  to  your  own  hearts — be  sure  of 
that;  and,  in  the  fullness  of  your  own  experience,  let  ns 
hear  your  song:  “There  is,  therefore,  now  no  condem¬ 
nation  to  them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  walk  not 
after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit.” 

How  is  it  with  you,  brethren  ?  How  is  it  with  you 
to-night?  Have  you  any  personal  interest  in  the  incar¬ 
nation  of  the  Saviour?  Has  the  realizing  change  by 
which  you  are  enabled  to  understand  the  purposes  of 
the  Saviour’s  advent  come  upon  your  heart  ?  Have  the 
purposes  of  his  advent  been  fulfilled  in  your  experience  ? 
He  came  “  to  destroy  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,” 
that  is,  the  devil — to  counter-work  him  on  his  own 


160 


THE  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


ground ;  is  he  slain  in  you — vanquished  and  overcome 
in  you  ?  lie  came  “  to  deliver  them  who  through  fear 
of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage ;”  are 
you  freed  from  the  tyranny  ?  Have  you  entered  into 
the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  has  promised  to  make  you 
free  ?  He  has  accomplished  his  purpose.  Many  a  one 
has  gone  blithely  to  the  stake  in  the  name  of  Jesus ; 
many  a  one  has  marched  steadily  with  eyes  open  to 
meet  the  last  enemy,  trusting  in  Jesus.  No,  not  much 
fear  of  death  about  Stephen,  when  in  the  gloom  of  that 
fierce  council  he  looked  up  and  saw  heaven  opened,  and 
the  Son  of  Man  standing  at  the  right  hand  of  the  throne 
of  God,  and  all  that  were  in  the  council,  looking  stead¬ 
fastly  on  him,  saw  his  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an 
angel.  Not  much  fear  of  death  in  Paul.  That  is  more 
patent  to  your  experience,  perhaps  ;  for  he  was  a  blas¬ 
phemer  once,  we  know — a  persecutor  once,  an  injurious 
man  once ;  but  he  obtained  mercy,  and  he  is  presented 
in  what  I  take  to  be  one  of  the  sublimest  passages  of 
Scripture:  “I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two” — frail, 
erring,  sinful,  mortal  man  poised,  so  to  speak,  in  balance 
between  both  worlds,  having  the  choice  of  either,  and 
not  knowing  which  to  take — “  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt 
two,  having  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ, 
which  is  far  better ;  but  to  remain  in  the  flesh  is  more 
needful  for  you.”  Not  much  fear  of  death  there.  He 
came  “to  deliver  them  who,  through  fear  of  death, 
were  all  their  life-time  subject  to  bondage.”  How  is  it 
with  you?  Does  the  Spirit  take  of  the  things  of  Christ 


THK  INCARNATION  OF  CHRIST. 


161 


and  show  them  to  you?  Does  lie  witness  to  you  of 
your  own  personal  adoption  into  the  family  of  God  ?  If 
you  hesitate  to  say  that,  can  you  say,  as  the  old  woman 
in  Scotland  said,  when  questioned  upon  the  fact  of  her 
adojition  :  “  I  can  say  this :  either  I  am  changed  or  the 
world  is  changed.”  Can  you  say  that?  Has  the 
cautery  begun  its  work?  Is  the  proud  flesh  getting 
eaten  out  by  the  live  coal  from  the  altar?  Are  you 
ceasing  to  do  evil  and  learning  to  do  well — bringing 
forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance  ?  Do  you  hate  sin  with 
ever-increasing  hatred,  and  press  forward  to  the  cultiva¬ 
tion  of  the  things  that  are  of  good  report  and  lovely  ? 
Alas !  it  will  be  sad  for  you  if  the  incarnation  of  Christ 
should  be  to  you  a  mystery  forever,  if  there  be  no  light 
coming  upon  his  purposes,  no  experience  of  the  fulfill¬ 
ment  of  them  in  your  own  hearts.  Oh,  seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness.  Hallow  this 
dedicatory  service  by  the  dedication  of  your  own  hearts 
to  God.  Let  there  be  this  sacrifice,  a  living  sacrifice, 
holy  and  acceptable,  which  is  your  reasonable  service. 


VI. 


ZEAL  m  THE  CAUSE  OF  CUEIST. 

“For  whether  we  be  beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God:  or  whether  we  be 
sober,  it  is  for  your  cause.  For  the  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us;  be¬ 
cause  we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for  all,  then  were  all  dead;  and 
that  he  died  for  all,  that  they  who  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto 
themselves,  but  unto  him  who  died  for  them,  and  rose  again.” — 2  Cor. 
v.  13-16. 

It  is  always  an  advantage  for  tlie  advocate  of  any 
particular  cause  to  know  the  tactics  of  his  adversary 
He  will  he  the  better  prepared  for  the  onset,  and  repel 
the  attack  the  more  easily.  Forewarned  of  danger,  he 
will  intrench  himself  in  a  position  from  which  it  will  be 
impossible  to  dislodge  him.  The  Apostle  Paul  pos¬ 
sessed  this  advantage  in  a  very  eminent  degree.  In  the 
earlier  years  of  his  apostleship,  the  Jew  and  the  Greek 
were  the  antagonists  with  whom  he  had  to  contend. 
Having  been  himself  a  member  of  the  straitest  sect  of 
the  Jews,  he  knew  full  well  the  antipathy  with  which 
they  regarded  anything  which  set  itself  by  its  simplicity 
in  contrast  with  their  magnificent  ritual ;  and  he  knew 
also  the  haughty  scorn  with  which  they  turned  away 

from  what  they  deemed  the  unworthy  accessories  of  the 

162 


ZEAL  IN  TIIE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


103 


Hazarene.  And,  well  read  as  he  was  in  classic  litera¬ 
ture,  and  acquainted  with  all  the  habits  and  tendencies 
of  the  Grecian  mind,  he  could  readily  understand  how 
the  restraints  of  the  Gospel  would  be  deemed  imperti¬ 
nent  by  the  voluptuous  Corinthian,  and  how  the 
philosophic  Athenian  would  brand  its  teachers  mad. 
And  yet,  rejoicing  in  the  experimental  acquaintance 
with  the  Gospel,  he  says,  for  his  standing-point  of  ad¬ 
vantage :  “We  preach  Christ  crucified,  to  the  Jews  a 
stumbling-block  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness,  but  to 
them  that  are  called,  the  power  of  God  and  the  wisdom 
of  God.”  And  in  the  words  of  the  text,  addressing 
some  of  those  very  Corinthians  upon  whom  the  Gospel 
had  exerted  its  power,  he  seems  to  accept  the  stigma 
and  vindicate  the  glorious  madness:  “ For  whether  we 
be  beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God :  or  whether  we  be 
sober  it  is  for  your  cause.  For  the  love  of  Christ  con- 
straineth  us ;  because  we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died 
for  all,  then  were  all  dead :  and  that  he  died  for  all, 
that  they  who  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  them¬ 
selves,  but  unto  him  who  died  for  them,  and  rose  again.” 
The  great  purpose  of  the  Apostle  in  these  words  is  to 
impress  upon  us  the  fact  that  the  cause  of  Christ  in  the 
world,  sanctioned  by  the  weight  of  so  many  obligations, 
fraught  with  the  destinies  of  so  many  millions,  should 
be  furthered  by  every  legitimate  means  ;  that  for  it,  if 
necessary,  should  be  employed  the  soberest  wisdom; 
and  for  it,  if  necessary,  the  most  impassioned  zeal.  He 
vindicates  the  use  of  zeal  in  the  cause  of  Christ  by  the 


1 64: 


ZEAL  IN  TIIE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


three  following  considerations:  First,  from  the  condi¬ 
tion  of  the  world ;  secondly,  from  the  obligations  of  the 
Church ;  and,  thirdly,  from  the  master-motive  of  the 
Saviour’s  constraining  love.  To  illustrate  and  enforce 
this  apostolic  argument,  as  not  inappropriate  to  the 
object  which  has  called  us  together,  will  be  our  busi¬ 
ness  for  a  few  brief  moments  to-night. 

I.  The  Apostle  argues  and  enforces  the  use  of  zeal  in 
the  cause  of  Christ,  in  the  first  place,  from  the  condition 
of  tiie  world.  The  Apostle  speaks  of  the  world  as  in  a 
state  of  spiritual  death.  He  argues  the  universality  of 
this  spiritual  death  from  the  universality  of  the  atone¬ 
ment  of  Christ.  “For  the  love  of  Christ  constraineth 
us,  because  we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for  all,  then 
were  all  dead  ” — dead  in  sin,  with  every  vice  luxuriant 
and  every  virtue  languishing;  dead  in  law,  judicially 
in  the  grasp  of  the  avenger ;  nay,  “  condemned  already,” 
and  hastening  to  the  second  death.  We  need  not  re¬ 
mind  you  that  this  is  by  no  means  the  world’s  estimate 
of  its  own  condition.  It  is  short-sighted,  and,  therefore, 
self-complacent.  There  is  a  veil  over  its  eye ;  there  is 
a  delusion  at  its  heart.  In  that  delusion  it  fancies  itself 
enthroned  and  stately,  like  some  poor  lunatic,  an 
imaginary  monarch  under  the  inflictions  of  its  keeper. 
The  discovery  of  its  true  position  comes  only  when  the 
mind  is  enlightened  from  on  high.  “We  thus  judge,” 
not  because  there  is  in  us  any  intuitional  sagacity,  or 
any  prophetical  foresight,  by  which  our  judgment  is 
made  more  accurate  than  the  judgment  of  others;  but 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


165 


the  Holy  Spirit  has  come  down,  has  wrought  upon  us — • 
has  shown  us  the  plague  of  our  own  hearts— and  from 
the  death  within  we  can  the  better  argue  the  death 
which  exists  around.  And  that  this  is  the  actual  con¬ 
dition  of  the  world,  Scripture  and  experience  combine 
to  testify.  The  Bible,  with  comprehensive  impartiality, 
concludes  all  “under  sin  represents  mankind  as  a  seed 
of  evil-doers — “  children  that  are  corrupters  — sheep 
that  have  wandered  away  from  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
of  their  souls.  In  the  adjudication  of  Scripture  there  is 
no  exemption  from  this  common  character  of  evil,  and 
from  this  common  exposure  to  danger.  The  man  of 
merciful  charities,  and  the  woman  of  abandoned  life — 
the  proudest  peer,  and  the  vilest  serf  in  his  barony — the 
moralist  observer  of  the  decalogue,  and  the  man-slayer, 
red  with  blood,  all  are  comprehended  in  the  broad  and 
large  denunciation:  “Ye  were  by  nature  children  of 
wrath,  even  as  others.”  And  out  in  the  broad  world, 
wherever  the  observant  eye  travels,  you  have  abundant 
confirmation  of  the  testimony  of  Scripture.  You  have 
it  in  your  own  history.  The  transgressions  and  sins 
which  constitute  this  moral  death  abound  in  our  age  no 
less  than  in  any  former  age  of  mankind.  There  are 
thousands  around  you  wTho  revel  in  undisguised  corrup¬ 
tion.  There  are  thousands  more  externally  reputable 
who  have  only  a  name  to  live.  You  have  this  confirm¬ 
ation  in  the  nations  of  the  Continent — some  safely  bound 
by  the  superstition  of  ages ;  others  subsiding  into  a  re¬ 
actionary  skepticism.  You  have  this  confirmation 


1GG 


ZEAL  IX  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


further  away  in  the  countries  which  own  Mohammedan 
rule,  and  cherish  the  Mohammedan’s  dream — where  you 
have  unbridled  lust,  and  a  tiger’s  thirst  for  blood.  You 
have  this  confirmation  in  the  far-otf  regions  of  heathen¬ 
ism  proper,  where  the  nature,  bad  in  itself,  is  made  a 
thousand-fold  worse  by  its  religion — where  the  man  is 
the  prey  of  every  error,  and  the  heart  the  slave  of  every 
cruelty — where  men  live  in  destruction,  and  where  men 
die  in  despair.  Travel  where  you  will,  visit  the  most 
distant  regions,  and  search  under  the  shadow  of  the 
highest  civilization — penetrate  into  the  depths  of  those 
primeval  forests,  into  whose  original  darkness  you  might 
have  imagined  the  curse  would  hardly  penetrate,  and 
the  result  is  uniformly  the  same.  Death  is  everywhere. 
You  see  it,  indeed,  in  all  its  varieties ;  now  in  the  rare 
and  fading  beauty  which  it  wears  just  after  the  spirit 
has  fled  from  the  clay,  when  its  repose  seems  the  worn- 
out  casket,  which  the  soul  has  broken,  and  thrown  away ; 
now,  when  there  is  shed  over  it  a  hue  of  the  sublime, 
and  it  is  carried  amid  tears  to  burial ;  and  now,  when 
corruption  has  begun  its  work,  and  its  ill  odor  afieets 
the  neighborhood,  and  spreads  the  pestilence — you  see 
it  in  all  its  varieties,  but  uniformly  death  is  there.  We 
gather  from  our  melancholy  pilgrimage  no  vestige  of 
spiritual  life.  Mourners  go  about  the  streets,  and  there 
are  mourners  over  many  tombs. 

Although,  as  we  have  observed  just  now,  a  thorough 
and  realizing  estimate  of  the  world’s  condition  comes 
only  when  the  judgment  is  enlightened  from  on  high, 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


167 


the  wise  men  of  the  world,  the  minds  that  have  in  all 
ages  towered  above  their  fellows,  have  felt  an  unsatisfac- 
toriness  for  which  they  could  hardly  account  ;  they  have 
had  a  vague  and  morbid  consciousness  that  all  was  not 
right  somehow,  either  with  themselves  or  with  their 
race  ;  they  have  met  with  disturbing  forces,  signs  of 
irregularity,  tokens  of  misery  and  of  sin  that  have 
ruffled,  somewhat,  the  philosophic  evenness  of  their 
minds.  Each  in  his  own  way,  and  from  his  own  stand¬ 
point,  has  guessed  at  the  solution  of  the  problem,  and 
has  been  ready  with  a  suggested  remedy.  The  peoples 
are  imbruted ;  educate  them.  The  nations  are  bar¬ 
barous;  civilize  them.  Men  grovel  in  sensual  pleasure; 
cultivate  the  aesthetic  faculty;  open  up  to  them  galleries 
of  pictures ;  bring  them  under  the  humanizing  influ¬ 
ences  of  art.  Men  groan  in  bondage ;  emancipate  them, 
and  bid  them  be  free !  Such  are  some  of  the  tumul¬ 
tuous  cries  that  have  arisen  from  earnest  but  blind 
philanthropists,  who  have  ignored  the  spiritual  part  of 
man’s  nature,  and  forgotten  altogether  the  Godward 
relations  of  his  soul.  All  these,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  valuable  enough  as  auxiliaries,  worth  some¬ 
thing  to  promote  the  growth  and  comfort  ot  a  man  when 
life  has  been  once  imparted,  fail,  absolutely  fail  to 
quicken  the  unconscious  dead.  In  all  cases  the  bed  has 
been  shorter  than  that  a  man  could  lie  on  it,  and  the 
covering  narrower  than  that  he  could  wrap  himself  in 
it.  The  inbred  death  lay  too  deep  for  such  superficial 
alchemy;  corpses  cannot  by  any  possibility  animate 


168 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


corpses ;  and  tlie  compassionate  bystander  from  other 
worlds,  sickened  with  the  many  inventions,  might  be 
constrained  to  cry,  “Amid  all  this  tumult  of  the  human, 
O  for  something  Divine  !”  And  the  Divine  is  given — 
Christ  has  died  for  all  men.  There  is  hope  for  the 
world’s  life.  This  is  a  death  whereby  we  live  ;  this  is  a 
remedy  commensurate  with  existing  need,  and  intended 
entirely  to  terminate  and  extinguish  that  need. 

That  squalid  savage,  whose  creed  is  a  perpetual 
terror,  and  whose  life  is  a  perpetual  war — Christ  hath 
died  for  him.  That  fettered  and  despairing  slave,  into 
whose  soul  the  iron  has  entered,  valued  by  his  base 
oppressor  about  on  a  par  with  the  cattle  he  tends,  or 
with  the  soil  he  digs — Christ  hath  died  for  him.  That 
dark  blasphemer,  who  lives  in  familiar  crime,  whose 
tongue  is  set  on  fire  of  hell,  whose  expatriation  would 
be  hailed  by  the  neighborhood  around  him  as  a  boon  of 
chiefest  value — Christ  has  died  for  him.  That  dark 
recluse,  whom  an  awakened  conscience  harasses,  and 
who,  in  the  vain  hope  of  achieving  merit  by  suffering, 
wastes  himself  with  vigilant  penance  well-nigh  to  the 
grave— Christ  has  died  for  him.  Oh,  tell  these  tidings 
to  the  world,  and  it  will  live.  Prophesy  of  this  name 
in  the  motionless  valley,  and  the  Divine  Spirit  who 
always  waits  to  do  honor  to  Jesus,  will  send  the  afflatus 
from  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  and  they  shall  leap  into 
life  to  his  praise. 

Now  take  these  two  points.  Think,  in  the  first  place, 
ot  the  condition  of  the  world — a  condition  so  disastrous, 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST.  169 

that  nothing  but  death  can  illustrate  it — a  condition 
which  prostrates  every  faculty,  which  smites  the  body 
with  unnumbered  cruelties,  which  dwarfs  the  mind  with 
prejudices  or  distorts  it  into  unholy  passion,  which 
banishes  the  soul  and  mind  within  a  man  in  hopeless 
estrangement  from  happiness  and  God ;  and  then  think 
of  the  death  of  Christ,  providing  for  the  furthest  need, 
overtaking  the  utmost  exile,  pouring  its  abundant  life 
upon  the  sepulchred  nations,  diffusing  light,  liberty, 
hope,  comfort,  heaven :  and  I  appeal  to  your  enlightened 
judgment  whether  you  are  not  bound,  those  of  you  who 
believe  in  Jesus,  to  labor  for  the  world’s  conversion 
with  intensest  energy  and  zeal.  Oh,  if  temporal  miseries 
elicit  sympathy,  and  prompt  to  help ;  if  the  anxieties  of 
a  neighborhood  gather  around  a  drowning  child,  or  are 
fastened  upon  the  rafters  of  a  burning  house,  where, 
solitary  and  imploring,  stands  a  single  man,  already 
charred  by  the  flame,  how  much  of  sympathy,  of  effort, 
of  liberality,  of  zeal,  of  prayer,  are  due  to  a  world  lying 
in  the  wicked  one,  and  panting  after  the  second  death ! 
You  will  agree  with  me,  that  there  is  more  than 
license  for  the  poet’s  words : 

“  On  such  a  theme, 

’Tis  impious  to  he  calm  !” 


And  you  will  rejoice — will  you  not? — to  take  your 
stand,  to-night  by  the  Apostle’s  side,  and  to  cry,  when 
men  deem  your  zeal  impertinence  and  your  efforts 

8 


170 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHKIST. 


fanaticism,  “  If  we  be  beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God : 
and  if  we  be  sober,  it  is  for  your  cause.” 

II.  The  Apostle  argues  the  necessity  for  zeal  in  the 
cause  of  Christ,  secondly,  from  the  obligations  of  the 
church,  in  that  he  died  for  all,  that  they  should  live — 
should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  for  him 
who  died  for  them  and  rose  again.  The  Apostle’s 
argument  is  this — none  of  us  has  life  in  himself ;  if  we 
live  at  all,  we  live  by  imparted  life  ;  we  live  because 
life  has  been  drafted  into  our  spirits  from  on  high. 
Then  it  is  not  our  own  ;  it  belongs  to  Him  who  has  pur¬ 
chased  it  for  us  with  his  own  blood,  and  we  are  bound 
to  employ  it  in  his  service,  and  for  his  glory.  This  also 
is  the  conclusion  of  an  enlightened  judgment.  We 
judge  this  as  well  as  the  other,  and  this  is  in  accordance 
with  the  whole  tenor  of  Scripture.  Time  would  fail  us 
to  mention  a  tithe  of  the  passages  in  which  devotion — 
the  devotion  of  the  heart  and  of  the  service  of  God,  are 
made  matter  of  constant  and  of  prominent  demand.  I 
will  just  mention  one  passage  that  may  serve  as  an 
illustration  of  all :  “  I  beseech  you  therefore,  brethren, 
by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  give  your  bodies  as  a 
living  sacrifice.”  Have  you  ever  gauged  the  depth  of 
consecration  that  slumbers  in  the  heart  of  those  words — • 
“  a  living  sacrifice ;”  to  be  absolutely  and  increasingly 
devoted  to  God,  as  if  the  knife  were  at  the  throat,  and 
the  life-blood  streamed  forth  in  votive  offering  ?  Hay, 
better  than  that ;  because  the  life-blood  could  stream 
out  but  once,  but  the  living  sacrifice  may  be  a  perpetual 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  Of  CHRIST. 


171 


holocaust,  repeated  daily  for  a  lifetime— a  living  sacri¬ 
fice,  holy  and  acceptable  unto  God,  which  is  your 
reasonable  service.  From  the  doctrine  ot  this  passage, 
and  of  numberless  others  kindred  to  it,  it  would  appear 
that  the  regenerate  heart  is  not  at  liberty  to  live  for 
itself,  nor  to  aim  supremely  at  its  own  gratification  ;  it 
must  live  for  him  who  has  “  died  for  it,  and  who  has 
risen  again. F  ou  cannot  tail,  X  think,  to  perceive  that 
compliance  with  this  exhortation  is  utterly  antagonistic 
to  the  ordinary  procedure  of  mankind. 

In  an  age  of  organization  against  idolatry,  there  is 
one  proud,  rampant  idolatry  which  retains  its  ascen 
dency  amongst  us.  Selfishness  is  the  most  patronized 
idolatry  in  the  world.  It  is  the  great  image  whose 
brightness  is  exceeding  terrible,  and  before  which  all 
men  bow ;  it  is  a  throne,  and  an  empire,  and  the  like¬ 
ness  of  a  kingly  crown  ;  it  equips  armies  and  mans 
armaments  to  gratify  its  lust  of  power.  Fastnesses 
have  been  explored  and  caverns  ransacked  to  appease 
its  thirst  for  gold.  It  presides  over  the  councils  of 
kings  and  over  the  diplomacy  of  cabinets  ;  for  it  the 
merchantman  grindetli  down  his  manhood,  for  it  the 
tread er-under-foot  of  nations  marcheth  in  his  might  and 
in  his  shame  ;  its  votaries  are  of  all  handicrafts  ol  the 
learned  professions,  and  of  every  walk  in  lile.  It  hath 
sometimes  climbed  on  to  the  judgment-seat,  and  per¬ 
verted  justice  there.  The  cowled  monk  hath  hidden  it 
beneath  his  robe,  and  it  hath  become  for  him  an  engine 
of  oppression,  and  it  hath  occasionally  robed  itself  in 


172 


ZEAL  IN  TUB  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


lioly  vestments,  and  entered  the  priest’s  office  for  a 
morsel  of  bread.  No  grace  nor  virtue  of  humanity  is 
free  from  its  contamination.  It  has  breathed,  and 
patriotism  has  degenerated  into  partisanship ;  it  has 
breathed,  and  friendship  has  been  simulated  for  policy ; 
it  has  breathed,  /and  charity  has  been  blemished  by 
ostentation  ;  it  has  breathed,  and  religion  lias  been 
counterfeited  for  gold  ;  its  sway  is  a  despotism — its  ter¬ 
ritory  wherever  man  hath  trodden,  and  it  is  the  undis¬ 
puted  anarch  of  the  wrorld.  Now  it  is  against  this 
principle  in  human  nature,  throned  within  us  all, 
doggedly  contesting  every  inch  of  ground,  that  Christ¬ 
ianity  goes  forth  to  combat.  The  Gospel  absolutely 
refuses  to  allow  self  to  be  the  governing  power,  and 
assaults  it  in  all  its  strongholds  with  precepts  of 
sublime  morality.  To  the  selfishness  of  avarice  it  goes 
up  boldly,  even  while  the  miser  clutches  his  gold,  and 
says  :  “  Give  to  him  that  asketh  of  thee,  and  from  him 
that  would  borrow  of  thee  turn  not  thou  away.”  To 
the  selfishness  of  anger  it  addresses  itself,  even  when 
the  red  spot  is  yet  on  the  brow  of  the  angry :  “  Let  not 
the  sun  go  down  upon  thy  wrath “  Bless  them  that 
curse  you,  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  you  and 
persecute  you.”  To  the  selfishness  of  pride,  even  in  its 
haughtiness  and  arrogance,  it  says :  “  In  honor  prefer¬ 
ring  one  another,  be  clothed  with  humility,  let  each 
esteem  another  better  than  himself.”  To  the  selfishness 
of  indifference  to  the  concerns  of  others,  “  Look  not  on 
thine  own  things,  but  likewise  upon  the  things  of 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


173 


others and  to  tlie  selfishness  of  souls  and  criminal 
neglect  of  the  great  salvation,  it  speaks  in  tones  of 
pathos  which  that  must  he  a  callous  heart  that  can 
withstand,  “Ye  know  the  graces  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  who,  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for  our  sins  he 
became  poor,  that  we,  through  his  poverty,  might  be 
made  rich.”  Oh,  how  small,  alongside  of  august  and 
heavenly  precepts  like  these,  are  the  sublimest  maxims 
of  any  merely  ethical  morality ! 

It  is  said  that,  once,  during  the  performance  of  a 
comedy  in  the  Roman  theatre,  one  of  the  actors  gave 
utterance  to  the  sentiment,  “I  am  a  man;  nothing, 
therefore,  that  is  human,  can  be  foreign  to  me,”  and  the 
audience  were  so  struck  by  the  disinterestedness,  or  so 
charmed  by  the  novelty,  that  they  greeted  it  with  thun¬ 
ders  of  applause.  IIow  much  greater  wealth  of  kindly 
wisdom  and  prompting  to  unselfish  action  lies  hidden 
in  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  shrined  there  as  every-day 
utterances  passed  by  the  most  of  us  very  slightingly 
by !  Oh !  let  there  be  anything  like  the  genial  prac¬ 
tice  of  this  divine  morality,  and  the  world  would  soon 
lose  its  aspect  of  desolation  and  of  blood ;  oppression  and 
over-reaching,  and  fraud  and  cruelty,  would  be  frowned 
out  of  the  societies  of  men,  and  this  earth  would  be 
once  more  an  ample  and  a  peopled  paradise.  By 
selfishness,  as  we  have  thus  endeavored  to  describe  it, 
we  mean  that  grasping,  monopolizing  spirit  which  gets 
all  and  gives  nothing ;  heedful  enough  of  its  own  for¬ 
tunes,  careless  of  the  concerns  and  interests  of  others. 


174 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


This  is  the  principle  in  our  nature  which  Christianity 
opposes,  and  with  which  it  ceaselessly  wages  war.  But 
there  is  a  sort  of  selfishness  which,  for  the  sake  of  dis¬ 
tinction,  we  may  call  self-love,  which  is  instinctive,  and 
therefore  innocent — that  merciful  provision  by  which 
we  are  prompted  to  the  care  of  our  own  lives  and  to  the 
avoidance  of  everything  that  would  disquiet  or  abridge 
them.  This  principle  in  our  nature  Christianity  encou¬ 
rages  ;  to  this  principle  Christianity  addresses  itself ; 
and  hence  it  has  connected,  married  in  indissoluble 
union,  man’s  chiefest  duty  and  man’s  highest  pleasure. 
Godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things,  having  the  pro¬ 
mise  of  the  life  that  now  is.  What  has  the  dark,  mor¬ 
bid,  unhappy  sensualist  to  do  with  it  ?  Godliness  hath 
die  promise  of  the  life  “  that  now  is,”  as  well  as  “  that 
which  is  to  come.”  In  keeping  thy  commandments 
there  is  a  present  reward.  “  Take  my  yoke  upon  you 
and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and 
ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls  ;  for  my  yoke  is  easy 
and  my  burden  is  light.”  “  In  thy  presence  there  is 
fullness  of  joy ;  at  thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures 
for  evermore.”  Just  as  it  is  in  man’s  physical  organiza¬ 
tion,  and  its  adaptation  to  the  material  world  around 
him,  when  body  and  mind  are  alike  in  health,  we  can 
neither  eat,  nor  drink,  nor  talk,  nor  walk,  nor  sleep,  nor 
sing,  nor  perform  any  of  the  commonest  actions  of  life, 
without  a  sensation  ot  pleasure  ;  so  it  is  in  the  spiritual 
life  :  there  is  pleasure  in  its  every  motion.  There  is 
pleasure  even  in  the  sting  of  penitence ;  it  is 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


175 


“  A  godly  grief  and  pleasing  smart, 

That  melting  of  a  broken  heart.” 

There  is  pleasure  in  the  performance  of  duty ;  there  is 
pleasure  in  the  enjoyment  of  privilege  ;  there  is  pleasure 
in  the  overcoming  of  temptations,  a  grand  thrill  of 
happiness  to  see  trampled  under  foot  a  vanquished  lust 
or  slain  desire  ;  there  is  pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  bene¬ 
volence  5  there  is  pleasure  in  the  importunity  ot  prayei. 
Hence  it  is'  that  the  Apostle  seeks  to  rivet  the  sense  of 
personal  obligation  by  the  remembrance  ot  peisonal 
benefit.  We  thus  judge,  that  he  died  for  all,  that 
they  which,  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  them¬ 
selves,  but  unto  him  who  ” — owns  them  ?  Ho.  Claims 
them?  Ho.  Will  judge  them ?  Ho  ;  but— “  to  him 
who  died  for  them  and  rose  again.”'  Gratitude  is  to  be 
the  best  prompter  to  our  devotion.  Those  who  live  to 
Christ,  those  who  live  by  Christ,  will  not  tamely  see  liis 
altars  forsaken,  his  Sabbaths  desecrated,  his  name  blas¬ 
phemed,  the  blood  of  the  covenant  wherewith  he  was 
sanctified  accounted  an  unholy  thing.  II  re  tin  en,  aie 
you  of  that  happy  family?  Have  you  obtained  life 
from  the  dead  through  his  name?  Then  you  are  bound 
to  spend  it  for  his  honor,  and,  watching  with  godly 
jealousy  for  every  possible  opportunity  of  doing  good, 
to  spend  and  be  spent  for  them  who  have  not  yet  your 
Master  known.  I  call  on  you  to  answer  this  invocation  ; 
it  belongs  to  you.  There  is  no  neutrality,  believe  me, 
in  this  war — and  if  there  be  some  of  you  that  would 
like  to  be  dastardly  and  half-hearted  trimmers,  you  will 


176 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


find  by  and  by  tliat  you  have  got  tlie  hottest  place  in 
the  battle,  exposed  to  the  cross-fire  from  the  artillery  of 
both  parties.  I  call  on  you  decisively  to-night  to 
answer  this  invocation.  Call  up  before  your  minds  the 
benefits  you  have  individually  received ;  think  of  the 
blessings  which  the  death  of  Christ  has  procured  for 
you — the  removal  of  the  blighting  curse  which  sha¬ 
dowed  all  your  life,  the  present  sense  of  pardon, 
mastery  over  self  and  over  sin,  light  in  the  day  of  your 
activity,  and  songs  in  the  night  of  your  travail ;  the 
teaching  Spirit  to  lead  you  into  still  loftier  knowledge, 
and  the  sanctifying  spirit  to  impress  upon  you  the 
image  of  the  heavenly ;  that  Divine  fellowship  which 
lightens  the  present,  and  that  majestic  hope  which 
'  makes  the  future  brighter  far.  Think  of  the  benefits 
which  the  resurrection  of  Christ  has  conferred  upon 
you  ;  light  in  the  shadowed  valley,  the  last  enemy 
destroyed,  support  amid  the  swellings  of  Jordan,  a 
guide  upon  the  hither  side  of  the  flood,  angelic  wel¬ 
comes,  the  King  in  his  beauty,  and  “  a  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.”  And  then,  as  the 
sum  of  favor  is  presented,  and  gratitude  arises  and  the 
fire  burns,  and  the  heart  is  full,  and  the  frame  quivers 
with  the  intensity  of  its  emotions,  just  remember  that 
there  is  a  world  lying  in  the  wicked  one,  that  there  are 
multitudes,  thousands  upon  thousands,  in  your  own 
city,  at  your  own  doors,  for  wdiom  the  Saviour  died, 
who  never  heard  his  name ;  that  there  are  multitudes 
for  whom  he  has  abolished  death  who  have  never  felt 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRJST. 


177 


his  resurrection’s  power.  Let  your  tears  flow ;  better, 
far  better  a  tear  for  God’s  sake  and  the  world’s  sake 
than  the  hard-heartedness  and  darkness  of  sin.  Lift  up 
your  voice  in  the  midst  of  them ;  lift  it  up,  be  not 
afraid.  Say  unto  the  cities  of  Judah,  “  Behold  your 
God.”  Men  will  call  you  mad,  but  you  can  give  them 
the  Apostle’s  answer,  “  If  we  be  beside  ourselves,  it  is 
to  God  ;  if  we  be  sober,  it  is  for  your  cause.” 

III.  The  Apostle  argues  the  necessity  of  zeal  in  the 
cause  of  Christ,  in  the  third  place,  from  the  master 
motive  of  the  Saviour’s  constraining  love.  “The 
love  of  Christ  constrain eth  us” — forces  us  along,  car¬ 
ries  us  away  as  with  the  impetuosity  of  a  torrent,  or 
rather  as  when  cool  heavens  and  favoring  air  speed  the 
vessel  steadily  to  the  haven.  Love  is  at  once  man’s 
most  powerful  motive  and  his  highest  inspiration,  both 
in  the  life  that  now  is  and  that  which  is  to  come.  From 
love  to  Christ  spring  the  most  devoted  obedience,  the 
most  untiring  efforts  in  his  service.  There  are  other 
springs  of  action,  I  know,  by  which  men  are  influenced 
to  a  profession  of  religion.  Interest  can  occasionally 
affect  godliness  from  sordid  aims,  and  behave  itself 
decorously  amid  the  respectabilities  of  the  temple-going 
and  alms-giving  religion ;  but  it  will  give  its  arm  to 
any  man  that  goes  down  to  the  house  of  Bimmon  ;  and 
if  there  is  a  decree  that  at  the  sound  of  all  kinds  of 
music  they  are  to  fall  down  before  another  image  which 
has  been  erected  in  the  plains  of  Dura,  they  will  be  the 
most  obsequious  benders  of  the  knee.  Men  sometimes 


178 


ZEAL  IN  TOE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


practise  obedience  under  the  influence  of  fear.  A  sud¬ 
den  visitation,  a  prevailing  epidemic,  an  alarming  ap¬ 
peal,  will  strike  into  momentary  concern  ;  but  when 
the  indignation  is  overpast,  and  the  craven  soul  has 
recovered  from  its  paroxysms  of  terror,  there  will  often 
be  a  relapse  into  more  than  the  former  atrocities  of  evil. 
Convictions  of  duty  may  and  sometimes  will  induce  a 
man,  like  an  honest  Pharisee  of  the  olden  time,  to  ob¬ 
serve  rigidly  the  enactments  of  the  law ;  but  there  will 
be  no  heart  in  his  obedience,  and  no  holy  passion  in  his 
soul ;  but  let  the  love  of  God  be  shed  abroad  in  his 
heart  by  the  Holy  Ghost  given  unto  him,  let  there  be 
a  perception  of  love  in  God,  let  there  be  sight  of  the 
Crucified  as  well  as  of  the  cross,  and  there  will  be  dis¬ 
interested,  and  cheerful,  and  hearty  obedience.  Zeal 
for  God  will  become  at  once  a  passion  and  a  principle, 
intensifying  every  purpose  into  ardor,  and  filling  the 
whole  soul  with  the  vehemence  of  absorbing  desire. 
This  is  the  emotion  from  whose  natural  and  inevitable 
outflow  the  Apostle  vindicates  impassioned  zeal. 

Opinions  are  divided  as  to  whether  the  constraining 
love  spoken  of  in  the  text,  refers  to  Christ’s  love  to  us 
or  to  our  love  to  him,  which  the  sense  of  his  love  has 
enkindled  in  the  soul.  I  do  not  think  we  can  go  far 
wrong  if  we  take  both  meanings,  inasmuch  as  no  prin¬ 
ciple  of  exposition  is  violated,  and  as  we  need  the  pres¬ 
sure  of  a  combination  of  motive,  that  we  may  be  zeal¬ 
ously  afiected  always  in  this  good  thing.  Ye,  then,  if 
there  are  any  of  you  here  who  need  rousing  to  energy 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


179 


in  the  service  of  Christ,  think  of  his  love  to  you ;  how 
rich  its  manifestations,  and  how  unfeigned ;  how  all 
other  love  of  which  it  is  possible  for  yon  to  conceive 
shrinks  in  the  comparison  !  There  have  been  develop¬ 
ments  in  the  histories  of  years  of  self-sacrificing  affec¬ 
tion,  which  has  clung  to  the  loved  object  amid  hazard 
and  suffering,  and  which  has  been  ready  even  to  offer 
up  life  in  its  behalf.  Orestes  and  Pylades,  Damon  and 
Pythias,  David  and  Jonathan,  what  lovely  episodes 
their  histories  give  us  amid  a  history  of  selfishness  and 
sin !  Men  have  canonized  them,  partly  because  such 
instances  are  rare,  and  partly  because  they  are  like  a 
dim  hope  of  redemption  looming  from  the  rums  of  the 
fall.  We  have  it  on  inspired  authority,  indeed,  “  Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this  ’’—this  is  the  highest  point 
which  man  can  compass,  this  is  the  culminating  point 
of  that  affection  which  man  can  by  possibility  attain, 
the  apex  of  his  loftiest  pyramid  goes  no  higher  than 

this _ “  greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 

lay  down  his  life  for  his  friend  ;  but  God  commendeth 
his  love  toward  us,  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners 
Christ  died  for  us.”  A  brother  has  sometimes  made 
notable  efforts  to  retrieve  a  brother’s  fortunes,  or  to 
blanch  his  sullied  honor ;  but  there  is  a  Friend  that 
sticketh  closer  than  a  brother.  A  father  has  bared  Ins 
breast  to  shield  his  offspring  from  danger,  and  a  mother 
would  gladly  die  for  the  offspring  of  her  womb  ;  but  a 
father’s  affection  may  fail  in  its  strength,  and  yet  more 
rarely  a  mother’s  in  its  tenderness. 


180 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


“  I  saw  an  aged  woman,  bowed 
’Mid  weariness  and  care  ; 

Time  wrote  in  sorrow  on  her  brow, 

And  ’mid  her  frosted  hair. 

“  What  was  it  that  like  sunbeam  clear 
O’er  her  wan  features  ran, 

As,  pressing  toward  her  deafened  ear, 

I  named  her  absent  son  ? 

“  What  was  it  ?  Ask  a  mother’s  breast, 

\ 

Through  which  a  fountain  flows, 

Perennial,  fathomless,  and  blest, 

By  winter  never  froze. 

“  What  was  it  ?  Ask  the  King  of  kings, 

WTho  hath  decreed  above, 

What  change  should  mark  all  earthly  things 
Except  a  mother’s  love  !” 

And  “  can  a  woman  forget  her  sucking  child,  that  she 
should  not  have  compassion  on  the  son  of  her  womb  \ 
Yea,  they  may  forget,  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee.”  O 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  who  can  declare  thee  ?  “  Herein  is 

love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and 
sent  his  Son  to  be  a  propitiation  for  our  sins.”  Think 
of  that  love — love  which  desertion  could  not  abate — 
love  which  ingratitude  could  not  abate — which  treach¬ 
ery  could  not  abate — love  which  death  could  not  de¬ 
stroy — love  which,  for  creatures  diateful  and  hating  one 
another,  stooped  to  incarnation,  and  suffered  want,  and 
embraced  death,  and  shrank  not  even  from  tho  loath¬ 
someness  and  from  the  humiliation  of  burial ;  and  then, 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


181 


with  brimming  eye,  and  heart  that  is  full,  and  wonder 
“  Why  such  love  to  me  ?”  you  will  indeed  be  ungrate¬ 
ful  if  you  are  not  stirred  by  it  to  an  energy  of  consecra¬ 
tion  and  endeavor,  which  may  well  seem  intemperate 
zeal  to  the  cool  reckoners  with  worldly  wisdom.  Then 
take  the  other  side  of  the  argument ;  take  it  as  refer¬ 
ring  to  your  love  to  Christ,  which  the  sense  of  his  love 
has  enkindled  in  the  soul.  The  deepest  affection  in  the 
believing  heart  will  always  be  the  love  of  Jesus.  The 
love  of  home,  the  love  of  friends,  the  love  of  letters, 
the  love  of  rest,  the  love  of  travel,  and  all  else,  are 
contracted  by  the  side  of  this  master-passion.  “  A  little 
deeper,”  said  one  of  the  veterans  of  the  first  Napoleon’s 
old  guard,  when  they  were  probing  in  his  bosom  for  a 
bullet  that  had  mortally  wounded  him,  and  he  thought 
they  were  getting  somewhere  in  the  region  of  the  heart 
— “a  little  deeper  and  you  will  find  the  Emperor.” 
Engraven  on  the  Christian’s  heart  deeper  than  all  other 
love  of  home  or  friends,  with  an  ineffaceable  impression 
that  nothing  can  erase,  you  find  the  loved  name  of  Jesus. 
Oh !  let  this  affection  impel  us,  and  who  shall  measure 
our  diligence  or  repress  our  zeal  ?  Love  is  not  bound 
by  rule ;  there  is  no  law  that  can  bind  it ;  it  is  never 
below  the  precept,  it  is  always  up  to  the  precept,  but 
it  always  has  a  margin  of  its  own.  It  does  not  calcu¬ 
late,  wTith  mathematical  exactitude,  with  how  little  of 
obedience  it  can  escape  penalty  and  secure  recompense ; 
like  its  Master  it  gives  in  princely  style ;  it  is  exuberant 
in  its  manifestations ;  there  is  always  enough  and  to 


182 


ZEAL  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  CHRIST. 


spare.  And  if  meaner  motive  can  prompt  to  heroic 
action — if  from  pure  love  of  science  astronomers  can 
cross  ocean  familiarly,  and  dare  encounter  dangers,  just 
that  they  may  watch  in  distant  climes  the  transit  of  a 
planet  across  the  disc  of  the  sun — and  if  botanists  can 
travel  into  inhosjntable  climes  and  sojourn  among  in¬ 
hospitable  men,  only  to  gather  specimens  of  their  gor¬ 
geous  flora — and  if,  with  no  motive  but  love  of  country, 
and  no  recompense  save  bootless  tears  and  an  undying 
name,  a  Willoughby  could  sacrifice  himself  to  blow  up 
a  magazine,  and  a  Sarkeld  could  fire  the  Cashmere  Gate 
at  Delhi,  surely  we,  with  obligations  incomparably 
higher,  with  the  vows  of  profession  on  our  lips,  with 
death  busy  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  souls  going  down 
from  our  doors  into  a  joyless  and  blasted  immortality, 
ought  to  present  our  life-blood,  if  need  be,  for  the  cause 
of  Christ,  and  for  the  good  of  souls.  Let  the  scoffers 
spurn  at  us  as  they  will ;  we  are  far  superior  to  such 
poor  contumely.  Heaven  applauds  our  enthusiasm,  and 
we  can  vindicate  it  in  the  Apostle’s  words :  “If  we  be 
beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God ;  and  if  we  be  sober,  it  is 
for  your  cause.” 


YIT. 


THE  CHRISTIAN’S  INHERITANCE. 

“  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that 
I  desire  beside  thee.  My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth :  but  God  is  the 
strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  forever.” — Psalm  ixxiii.  25,  26. 

“My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth.”  Who  does  not 
understand  that?  It  is  the  common  lot — the  uniform 
and  continual  experience  of  the  race.  “  The  voice  said, 
Cry.  And  he  said,  What  shall  I  cry?  All  flesh  is 
grass,  and  all  the  goodliness  thereof  is  as  the  flower  of 
the  field ;  the  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth,  because 
the  spirit  of  the  Lord  bloweth  upon  it ;  surely  the  peo¬ 
ple  is  grass.”  This  announcement  of  mortality,  coming 
thus  solemnly  in  a  voice  from  heaven,  finds  its  echo  in 
the  experience  of  mortals  themselves ;  for  however  they 
may  attempt  to  disguise  it— with  whatever  study,  per¬ 
severance,  and  hypocrisy  they  may  conceal  their  feel¬ 
ings — it  is  an  undeniable  and  startling  truth  that  the  liv¬ 
ing  know  that  they  must  die.  Death,  my  brethren,  is  a 
theme  of  mighty  import.  Eloquence  has  been  exhausted 
upon  the  wide-spread  magnitude  of  its  desolation  ;  there 
is  not  a  place  where  human  beings  congregate  which 

does  not  tell  them  that  they  are  mortal.  Is  it  a  family  ? 

iss 


184 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


Death  enters  and  makes  household  memories  painful, 
and  turns  home  into  the  dwelling  of  the  stranger.  Is  it 
a  market-place?  It  is  a  busy,  stirring  throng  which 
fills  it  as  ever,  b  at  they  are  new  faces  that  meet  the  eye, 
new  voices  which  fall  upon  the  ear.  Is  it  a  congrega¬ 
tion  ?  Our  fathers,  where  are  they  ?  The  prophets,  do 
they  live  forever  ?  Is  it  a  world  ?  Every  thirty  years 
its  mighty  heart  is  changed  in  continual  supercession ; 
one  generation  comes  upon  the  heels  of  another,  and  the 
bones  of  our  fathers  form  the  dust  on  which  we  tread. 
And  yet,  strange  to  say,  there  is  an  almost  universal 
listlessness  upon  the  subject,  and  the  saying  of  the  poet 
seems  well-nigh  to  be  verified,  that 

“  All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves.” 

Look  at  the  man  of  the  world — does  not  he  seem  as 
if  he  thought  he  should  live  forever — as  if  he  thought 
only  on  the  paltry,  perishable  matters  with  which  he 
happens  to  be  surrounded?  Circumstances  may  indeed 
now  and  then  occur  in  his  history  which  may  compel  a 
transient  recognition  of  eternity :  his  eye  may  perhaps 
rest  upon  the  Bible,  or  a  funeral  procession  may  cross 
his  path  as  he  walks  the  streets  of  the  city,  or  a  passing 
bell,  with  its  slow  and  solemn  tolling,  may  break  sud¬ 
denly  upon  his  ear,  and  the  thought  comes  on  his  mind 
for  a  moment  that  there  may  possibly  be  such  a  thing 
as  death.  But  it  wyas  but  for  a  moment  ;  it  was  a  stray 
thought  of  eternity — one  who§e  advances  are  at  once 
forbidden  as  an  unwelcome  intruder ;  he  was  ruffled  for 


the  Christian’s  inheritance.  185 

awhile — taken  aback  for  an  instant — but  time  passed 
away,  and  he  has  become  as  still,  and  as  slumbering, 
and  as  senseless  as  before.  Brethren,  we  might  rebuke 
that  insensibility  from  the  records  of  ancient  history. 
It  is  recorded  of  Alexander,  the  conqueror  of  one  world, 
that  he  wrnpt  because  there  was  no  other  world  to  con¬ 
quer.  Alas !  men  now-a-days  have  sadly  degenerated ; 
they  have  no  such  ambition,  they  mourn  over  no  such 
cause  of  grief.  However,  there  is,  brethren,  whether 
men  reck  of  it  or  not,  there  is  another  world  to  conquer. 
The  battle  is  not  with  the  confused  noise  of  war,  or  gar¬ 
ments  rolled  in  blood ;  the  enemies  are  not  flesh  and 
blood,  but  principalities  and  powers,  and  the  rulers  of 
the  darkness  of  this  world,  and  spiritual  wickedness  in 
high  places.  The  prize  is  not  an  earthly  crown,  but  a 
kingdom  of  whose  brilliancy  the  Macedonian  never 
knew.  Yet  many  never  enter  this  battle-field,  and 
many  who  do,  after  a  tew  brief  and  ineflectual  struggles, 
grow  tired,  and  ingloriously  lay  down  their  arms.  Bie- 
tliren,  we  are  anxious  that  you  should  not  be  thus 
cowardly  in  the  day  of  battle ;  we  would  have  you  quit 
yourselves  like  men  and  be  strong;  and  we  know  of 
nothing  that  is  better  calculated  to  arouse  your  forti¬ 
tude  and  bring  into  play  that  high  and  fearless  heroism 
which  we  are  exhorted  by  the  Apostle  to  add  to  our 
faith,  than  the  consolation  of  the  words  of  the  text, 
•  bringing  before  us,  as  they  do,  the  Christian’s  personal 
inheritance,  and  hope,  and  future  prospects :  “  Whom 
have  I  in  heaven  but  thee?  and  there  is  none  upon 


186 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee.  My  flesh  and  my  heart 
faileth  :  blit  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my 
portion  forever.'’ 

We  need  not  spend  time  in  endeavoring  to  prove  to 
you,  that  it  is  one  characteristic  of  the  wicked  that 
“  God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts.”  He  may  not  go  so 
far  as  openly  to  deny  either  his  being  or  intelligence, 
but  could  you  search  his  heart  you  would  discover  it  to 
be  a  matter  of  the  supremest  indifference.  A  faint 
whisper  of  the  Divine  existence  never  obtrudes  itself 
into  his  schemes,  whether  of  aggrandizement  or  plea¬ 
sure  ;  and  he  is  content,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  to 
enjoy  the  uncared-for  inheritance  of  this  world.  Hay, 
oftentimes  his  presumption  is  more  galling  and  flagrant 
still :  aspiring  to  be  his  own  deity,  he  pays  homage  to 
himself,  and  with  Eastern  devotion  does  he  worship  at 
the  shrine  of  his  idol. 

How,  then,  was  this  stray  spirit  to  be  won  back  to 
God  ?  This  was  the  question  which  engaged  the  Divine 
attention,  and  the  answer  to  which  became  to  the 
angelic  host  a  matter  of  mystery  and  wonder.  The  law 
was  undoubtedly  powerless ;  it  had  been  broken,  its  re¬ 
quirements  flagrantly  violated,  and  wherever  man  went 
it  proscribed  him  a  fugitive  and  a  rebel.  Moreover,  it 
is  the  tendency  of  the  law  rather  to  irritate  than  to  heal 
• — rather  to  beget  unfriendliness  than  tenderness  toward 
the  law-giver  in  the  breast  of  the  criminal.  Hence  you 
may  bring  God  before  the  sinner’s  mind  in  his  character 
of  a  God  of  judgment;  you  may'manifest  to  the  sinner 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


187 


the  frowns  of  his  angry  countenance ;  you  may  collect 
all  the  arguments  of  terror  which  language  can  gather, 
and  you  may  arm  these  arguments  of  terror  with  addi¬ 
tional  energy  by  descanting  on  the  thunder  of  his 
power ;  you  may  set  before  him  the  horrible  spectacle 
of  his  own  impending  death,  and  the  unknown  horrors 
of  that  eternity  which  is  on  the  other  side ;  you  may 
discpiiet  him  with  all  these  appliances  (and  it  is  quite 
right  he  should  be  disquieted) ;  you  may  induce  a 
partial  reformation  of  life  and  character  (and  it  is  neces¬ 
sary  that  he  should  reform) ;  you  may  set  him  trembling 
at  the  power  of  the  lawgiver  (and  a  thousand  times 
rather  let  him  tremble  than  sleep) ;  but  where,  in  the 
midst  of  all  this,  is  there  obedience  to  the  first  and  great 
commandment  ?  Is  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  his 
heart  ?  Has  it  dawned  upon  the  darkness  of  his  mind  ? 
has  its  gentle  influence  acted  like  a  salutary  and  com¬ 
posing  charm  over  his  alarmed  breast  ?  Ho ;  all  your 
appliances  have  failed,  there  has  been  no  conviction  im¬ 
planted  except  the  conviction  of  fear.  The  thunders  of 
executive  justice  and  the  power  of  judicial  vengeance 
have  failed  to  impress  his  heart ;  there  it  is,  like  a  fortress, 
firm,  impregnable,  granite-like  on  its  adamantine  rock  ; 
and  that  which  was  intended  to  draw  the  soul  into  closer 
communion  to  God,  has  only  driven  him  to  a  more  hope¬ 
less  distance  from  God.  How,  then,  was  this  stray 
spirit  to  be  won  back  to  God?  Oh,  brethren,  “what 
the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was  weak  through  the 
flesh,  God  sending  his  own  Son  in  the  likeness  of  sinful 


188  the  Christian’s  inheritance. 

flesh” — mark  the  words;  not  in  the  reality  of  sinful, 
but  in  the  likeness  of  sinful,  though  in  reality  of  human 
— “  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin,  condemned 
sin  in  the  flesh.”  By  the  mysterious  incarnation  of  the 
Mighty  One  all  difficulties  were  removed.  The  dignity 
of  the  throne  remained  unsullied,  while  the  milder 
beams  of  mercy  were  made  to  fall  upon  it ;  and  God 
could  at  once  be  just,  and  yet  the  free  and  generous 
justifier  of  them  that  believe  in  Jesus.  The  all-com¬ 
prising  offering  of  the  Saviour’s  blood  made  at  once  an 
atonement",  an  at-one-ment  between  God  and  man.  The 
moment  the  man  exercises  faith  in  Christ  the  reconcilia¬ 
tion  is  complete.  The  Lord  is  his  defence ;  the  holy 
one  of  Israel  his  refuge ;  and  he  who  a  while  ago  was 
an  alien,  unredeemed  and  desolate — a  worthy  companion 
of  the  beast  in  his  lair,  a  fit  follower  on  the  serpent’s 
trail — is  now  clothed,  in  his  right  mind,  careering  along 
in  the  enterprise  of  godliness,  a  fellow-citizen  of  saints 
and  of  the  household  of  God.  And  this  brings  us  im¬ 
mediately  to  speak  of  our  present  meditation,  God  as 
the  recompense  of  the  believing  soul.  “  Whom  have  I 
in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that 
I  desire  beside  thee.” 

We  find  three  thoughts,  my  dear  brethren,  which 
tend  forcibly  to  impress  this  matter  upon  our  minds. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  God  is  the  Christian’s  inherit¬ 
ance  as  the  LiGnT  of  his  intellect.  There  is  nothing 
for  which  man  is  more  accountable  than  for  his  pos¬ 
session  of  mind — for  his  improvement  and  abuse  of 


TllE  CHRISTIANAS  INHERITANCE. 


189 


those  powers  with  which  the  mind  is  gifted.  It  is  a 
beneficent  gift  from  a  beneficent  .Being,  but,  then,  by 
partaking  of  the  nature  of  the  immortal,  it  entails  upon 
him  the  responsibilities  of  an  immortal  also.  Few  are 
the  subjects  which  it  cannot  penetrate  :  difficulties  but 
ura;e  it  to  a  course  of  loftier  efforts,  and,  like  the 
avalanche  of  snow,  it  gains  additional  momentum  from 
the  obstacles  that  threaten  to  impede  it.  Our  position 
is  this  :  Mind  never  finds  its  level,  never  finds  its  rest, 
until  it  is  fixed  upon  the  things  above;  active,  inquiring, 
speculative,  impassioned  ;  like  the  eagle  towering  from 
his  eyrie  on  the  cliff,  its  course  is  right  upward  to  the 
sun,  and  in  the  beams  of  uncreated  light  alone  it  finds 
its  home,  and  its  kindred,  and  its  joy.  The  great  pur¬ 
pose  of  man  in  the  present  world  is  to  pass  from  a 
passive  to  an  active  state  of  being.  And  it  is,  in  tact, 
this  transition,  effected  by  the  agency  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  which  is  that  regeneration  of  which  Scripture 
speaks.  By  nature,  man  is  under  the  dominion  of 
habit ;  the  Spirit  brings  him  under  the  dominion  of 
principle.  By  nature,  a  man  exercises  himself  in  all  his 
doing  without  reference  to  God ;  in  grace,  the  Spirit 
dwells  in  the  heart  as  the  sanctifier  and  the  guide.  By 
nature,  a  man,  under  temporary  impulses  of  master- 
passions,  may  put  forth  energies  which  awe  a  world, 
but  they  are  of  the  earth,  earthy ;  but  the  Spirit,  so  to 
speak,  implants  heavenly  ideas  in  his  mind,  and  he  gets 
power  and  capacity  to  think  of  God.  By  nature,  the 
man  cleaves  to  the  dust,  is  conversant  only  with  what  is 


190 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


contemptible  and  low,  and  at  last  sinks  into  perdition ; 
in  grace  lie  draws  himself  up  to  his  full  stature,  asserts 
his  native  royalty,  and,  as  a  heaven-born  and  heaven¬ 
tending  subject,  claims  kindred  with  the  King  of  the 
other  world.  In  fine,  by  nature  the  man  walks  in  dark¬ 
ness,  the  shadows  of  the  night  are  around  him,  and  he 
knoweth  not  whither  he  goetli ;  in  grace,  the  morning 
has  broken  delightfully  on  the  steps  of  the  traveller, 
and  he  is  revived  and  invigorated  by  the  light  of 
day. 

Brethren,  there  is  one  point  here  which,  if  you  are  all 
like-minded  with  myself,  you  will  hail  with  no  common 
satisfaction.  I  am  loth  to  part  with  those  I  love ;  I 
am  loth  to  regard  them  as  strangers,  because  they 
change  their  residence,  and  are  just  gone  to  live  on  the 
other  side  of  the  stream.  I  won’t  pay  death  the  compli¬ 
ment  of  telling  him  he  has  divided  the  Church.  He 
cannot  do  that.  There  is  only  one  army  of  the  living 
God : 

“  Part  of  the  host  have  crossed  the  flood, 

And  part  are  crossing  now 

but  it  is  one  army  ;  there  is  but  one  body  growing  up 
into  Christ — its  living  head.  The  head  and  the  upper 
members  in  heaven,  the  lower  members  on  earth ;  but 
it  is  but  one  system  and  one  body;  and  at  no  very 
distant  period  the  whole  body  shall  be  drawn  into  the 
upper  sanctuary,  and  stand  out  to  the  gaze  of  the 
admiring  universe  in  the  full  stature  of  the  perfect  man. 
I  hail  with  joy,  therefore,  anything  that  has  a  tendency 


the  chri&tian’s  inheritance. 


191 


to  bring  me  even  in  thought  near  to  the  loved  and  gone 
before.  I  welcome  as  the  visit  of  a  ministering  angel 
the  voice  of  kindness  which  brings  me  tidings  from  the 
realms  where  my  friends  are  reposing. 

The  thought,  then,  that  gives  me  such  satisfaction,  is 
this,  that  now,  even  now,  clogged  as  wTe  are  by  the 
frailty  and  weakness  of  the  body,  we  and  those  departed 
ones  who  have  died  in  the  faith  are  wTalking  in  the 
same  light.  We  are  told  that  the  Lord  is  the  light  of 
his  people  in  heaven ;  we  know  that  the  Lord  is  the 
light  of  liis  people  on  earth.  We  are  told  that  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  is  the  sole  illumination  of  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem ;  we  know  that  the  glory  of  the  Lord  illu¬ 
minates  the  earthly  Zion  ;  the  lamp  of  light  above,  the 
spirit  of  light  beneath — the  same  light,  for  they  are  both 
God.  There  is  a  beauty  in  this  conception — don’t  you 
see  it  ? — because  it  gives  us  the  notion  of  alliance ;  it 
repudiates  the  idea  of  this  earth  of  ours  as  cast  oil  from 
God’s  fatherhood,  a  shrouded  and  forgotten  thing.  It 
takes  hold  of  it  in  its  degradation,  and  tastens  round  it 
one  end  of  the  chain,  the  other  end  of  which  is  bound 
to  the  throne  of  the  Everlasting  himself.  And,  oh !  is 
it  not  a  beautiful  thought,  ay,  while  here  to-night  in  the 
sanctuary  we  are  opening  our  Libles,  and  imploring 
the  Spirit  of  God  to  shine  down  upon  the  truth,  faith 
looks  through  the  clouds — and  they  are  very  thin  ones 
and  sees  a  host  of  bright  spirits  above,  engaged  in  the 
same  employment,  desiring  to  look  into  the  same  things. 
We  arc  one  with  them  after  all.  The  light  may  tall, 


192 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


the  light  does  fall,  with  a  more  gushing  flood-tide  upon 
their  eyes,  hut  it  is  the  same  light.  There  they  are, 
with  the  Great  Teacher  in  the  midst  of  them,  poring 
everlastingly  upon  the  tale  of  pleading  love.  Such 
students  and  such  a  teacher,  who  would  not  join  ;  and, 
as  the  light  of  the  intellect,  adopt  at  once  and  forever 
the  words  of  the  text :  “  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  hut 
thee?  and  there  is  none  upon  the  earth  that  I  desire 
heside  thee.” 

II.  And  then  again,  God  is  the  Christian’s  inherit¬ 
ance,  not  only  as  the  light  of  his  intellect,  hut  as  the 
refuge  of  his  conscience.  Whenever  human  nature 
reflects  on  God,  it  must  reflect  on  him  as  an  object  of 
distrust  and  dread.  We  think  of  him  as  a  being  of 
unimagined  power,  of  enormous  power ;  we  are  igno¬ 
rant,  moreover,  how  he  stands  affected  toward  us — and 
the  fancy  of  ignorance  will  always  he  found  to  be  the 
fancy  of  fear.  The  uncertainty  in  which  the  manner 
of  his  existence  is  shrouded,  the  vast  extent  of  his 
creation,  the  wise  and  sage  policy  of  his  government, 
the  retirement  in  which  he  dwells,  the  clouds  and  dark¬ 
ness  that  are  round  about  his  footstool,  the  inscrutable 
majesty  which  surrounds  his  throne — all  these  things 
have  a  tendency  to  inspire  us  with  alarm,  so  that  we 
may  say  with  Job,  “  When  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of 
him.”  The  case  might  have  been  different  'in  the 
primeval  paradise,  when  the  Lord  walked  in  the  garden 
in  the  cool  of  day  ;  but  ever  since  he  has  withdrawn 
himself  from  mortal  soeiety,  mortals  view  him  with  dis- 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


193 


may ;  and  the  Athenians  only  spoke  the  language  of 
unassisted  reason,  when  they  reared  their  altar  “  to  the 
unknown  God.” 

And  if  we  appeal  to  nature,  to  the  external  world,  to 
remove  this  distrustfulness  of  God,  we  shall  find  our¬ 
selves  hut  little  benefited.  This,  you  know,  is  one  of  the 
very  tritest  prescriptions  of  the  Tlieopliilosophers  and 
Latitudinarians  of  the  present  day.  “  Go  to  nature,” 
they  say  ;  “  look  at  the  external  world  ;  see  everything 
around  yon;  look  there,  and  see  written  with  pleasing 
characters  that  one  great  lesson  of  the  universe,  that 
God  is  love.”  Well,  I  will  go  to  the  external  world,  if 
such  is  to  he  the  theme.  X  look  around  me,  and  I  dis¬ 
cover  many  things  upon  which  the  eye  can  gaze,  to 
which  the  ear  can  listen,  upon  which  the  heart  can 
dwell,  which  rejoices  me  when  I  think  that  the  God 
that  made  them  all  is  surely  a  God  of  love.  There  are 
the  smiling  landscapes,  and  beautiful  enamelled  earth, 
and  soft  music  of  the  summer’s  breeze,  and  the  loud 
laugh  of  the  bounding  stream,  and  the  innocence  of 
domestic  enjoyments  and  ennobling  principles,  and  the 
peace  and  love  and  animation  which  cluster  around  the 
hearth-stone  of  many  a  cottage  home.  Oh,  it  is  a 
delightful  thought  that  the  God  who  made  all  these 
things,  is  surely  a  God  of  love  !  Ah,  but  then  there  are 
the  sweeping  floods,  and  the  resistless  tempests,  and  the 
mighty  thunder,  and  the  jealousies  and  heart-burnings 
of  domestic  society,  and  the  wholesale  slaughters  of 
aggressive  war,  and  the  wrath  of  the  devouring  pesti- 

9 


194 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


lence,  and,  to  crown  all,  death,  grim  and  ghastly  death, 
crushing  the  generations  as  the  moth  is  crushed.  "What 
am  I  to  believe,  but  that  the  God  of  the  universe  is  a 
mighty  judge  ?  Nature  can  tell  me  nothing  then.  She 
just  tosses  my  poor  mind  about  in  the  most  distressing 
alternations,  first  of  confidence,  and  then  of  dread. 
And  yet  often  when  the  mild  voice  of  Christianity — 
rather  of  natural  religion — assures  me  that  God  is  love, 

I  am  not  disposed  to  believe  it.  But  then  there  is  a 
reason  for  this.  This  is  not,  like  the  other,  conjured  up .. 
out  of  the  land  of  shadows,  the  mere  result  of  man’s 
intellect  or  of  speculation  and  theories  ;  it  has  its  base 
and  origin  in  the  secrecies  of  his  own  nature.  The  fact 
is,  in  every  mind  there  is  a  law  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
along  with  it  a  consciousness  that  that  lawr  has  been 
habitually  violated.  There  is  a  restless  apprehension 
of  the  law  and  the  Law-giver,  a  dread  foreboding  of 
guilt  and  judgment;  and  a  man  cannot  believe  that 
God  is  love,  while  his  conscience  tells  him  that  that 
God  is  to  be  viewed  as  an  enemy.  The  comforting 
voice  of  reason  and  of  religion  may  testify  to  the 
benevolence  of  God  in  heaven  ;  but  so  long  as  there  is 
a  secret  misgiving  within — so  long  as  there  is  the  yet 
unsettled  controversy  between  his  Maker  and  himself, 
all  ideas  of  confidence  are  banished  from  his  mind,  and, 
like  Adam  of  old,  in  the  very  slyness  of  his  crime,  he 
would  hide  himself  from  his  Maker  among  the  trees  of 
his  garden. 

And  here^  it  is  that  Christianity  comes  to  our  assist- 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


195 


ance,  just  as  she  always  does  when  we  most  need  her, 
and  one  feels  the  force  of  those  deep  and  thrilling 
words — “  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world.”  This  told  of  a  Saviour,  and  a 
Saviour  who  has  borne  his  cross  and  carried  his  sorrow, 
the  man  looks  about  him  for  the  unwonted  spectacle, 
puts  off  his  fainting  for  awhile,  gazes  at  the  illustrious 
victim,  and  “Who  is  it?”  he  cries :  “who  is  that  mighty 
one  that  has  come  down  to  the  rescue  ?  Who  is  it  that 
has  agonized  in  the  garden,  that  has  bled  under  the 
scourge,  and  died  upon  the  cross  ?  Who  is  it  ?”  Why, 
who  should  it  be  but  the  very  Being  whom  he  has  so 
basely  and  so  ungratefully  insulted  ?  and  with  the  grace 
of  love  and  the  tenderness  of  the  man  Christ  Jesus, 
there  is  blended  the  majesty  of  the  King  of  kings.  Oh, 
he  cannot  doubt  after  that ;  that  is  an  argument  likely 
to  overturn  all  his  skepticism.  He  looks  at  the  cross, 
and  sees  that  God  is  righteous ;  but  he  looks  at  the 
Crucified,  and  he  sees  that  God  is  love ;  and,  with 
clasped  hands  and  streaming  eyes  and  grateful  heart, 
he  sings,  “Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee?  and 
there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee.” 

III.  And  then,  again,  God  is  the  Christian’s  inherit¬ 
ance,  also  as  the  rest  op  his  soul.  The  restlessness 
of  human  ambition  has  become  proverbial.  It  is  grasp¬ 
ing  as  the  leech,  insatiable  as  the  grave.  The  moment 
one  scheme  has  succeeded,  it  pants  for  the  enjoyment 
of  another.  The  moment  it  has  scaled  one  eminence 
of  fancied  bliss,  its  cry  is  “  up,”  ay,  from  the  summit 


i% 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


of  the  Alps.  “  0  that  I  had  the  wings  of  the  dove, 
and  then  would  I  fly  away  and  he  at  rest.”  This  rest¬ 
less  craving  for  something  better  than  earth,  although 
it  is  the  companion  of  our  fallen  nature,  very  plainly 
tells  us  an  important  truth — that  the  earth  and  its  con¬ 
cerns  can  never  satisfy  an  immortal  spirit.  It  pants  for 
something  higher,  something  more  refined,  something 
more  intellectual,  something  more  like  God.  That 
which  alone  can  satisfy,  can  fill  the  immortal  mind, 
must  be  something  in  which  it  can  feel  secure,  and 
something  with  which  it  can  be  satisfied  ;  for  to  be 
secure  is  to  be  safe,  and  to  be  satisfied  is  to  be  happy. 

1.  Take  the  first  thought,  then — that  of  security. 
We  are  in  a  dangerous  world;  at  every  step  of  our 
track  we  feel  the  necessity  of  celestial  guardianship, 
and  that  tutelary  and  sustaining  influences  should  be 
shed  upon  us  from  on  high.  Well,  let  us  once  get  it  into 
our  hearts — not  into  our  heads  simply  by  an  intellectual 
conviction,  but  into  our  hearts  as  a  happy  alliance — let 
us  get  it  into  our  hearts  that  the  Lord  is  our  defence 
and  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  our  refuge,  and  what  can 
make  us  afraid  %  Omnipotence  pledged  in  our  behalf ! 
Why,  the  very  idea  should  make  heroes  of  us  all !  He 
may,  he  most  likely  will  have  to  pass  through  the  fur¬ 
nace  ;  the  hand  of  affliction  may  be  laid  upon  him  ;  the 
wind  may  sweep  swiftly  over  the  desert,  rocking  to  and 
fro  the  canvas  tents  of  his  earthly  shelter ;  but  you  can 
hear  him  crying  in  the  pauses  of  the  storm — “It  is  the 
Lord  ;  let  him  do  what  seemeth  to  him  good.”  He 


the  Christian’s  inheritance.  197 

may  have  to  suffer  the  bitterness  of  bereavement ;  death 
may  deprive  him  of  the  beloved  ot  his  soul ;  there  may 
be  the  breaking  up  of  the  domestic  homestead ;  the 
fresh  laceration  of  the  already  bleeding  spirits,  and  the 
tearing  asunder  of  hearts  that  have  grown  together ; 
but,  in  the  midst  of  this  unparalleled  suffering,  you 
can  hear  his  unmoved  faith,  saying — “  The  Lord  gave, 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away” — not  the  Chaldsean, 
nor  the  Sabean,  nor  the  whirlwind,  nor  the  flood — “The 
Lord  hath  taken  away.  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord.”  A  fiercer  flood  may  roll  upon  him,  a  heavier 
wave  may  threaten  to  overwhelm  him,  the  fires  of  ven¬ 
geance  may  be  poured  on  his  head,  but  even  in  death’s 
grasp  his  failing  voice  is  heard — ■“  Though  he  slay  me,  yet 
will  I  trust  in  him.  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ? 
and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  thee.” 

2.  And  then  take  the  next  thought,  that  of  happiness. 
The  question  of  man’s  chief  good  has  been  in  all  ages 
speculated  upon  and  determined.  All  the  theorizers  on 
the  subject  have  been  convinced  of  this  that  it  could 
consist  in  nothing  inferior.  And  so  far  they  are  right. 
That  which  alone  can  fill  the  immortal  mind,  must  ha\e 
some  analogy  to  the  constitution  of  that  mind ,  and  it 
must  therefore  be  steadfast,  proof  against  the  fitfulness 
of  ever-changing  circumstances  ;  not  here  to-day  and 
vanished  when  we  need  it  to-morrow  ;  not  present  in 
the  summer  time  when  the  breezes  blow,  and  failing  in 
the  winter  time  when  the  blast  of  the  hurricane  comes 
down ;  but  steadfast,  always  the  same  and  always  avail- 


198 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


able.  And  it  must  be  progressive,  keeping  pace  with 
the  soul,  lasting  as  long  as  the  soul,  keeping  abreast 
with  it  in  its  triumphal  march  to  holiness  and  God. 
Well,  there  are  many  candidates  in  the  field.  Just 
bring  them  to  the  test-stone  for  awhile.  Pleasure  is  a 
candidate,  and  she  brings  before  the  soul  a  very  glow¬ 
ing  description  of  herself  and  her  ways.  She  tells  him 
that  the  voice  of  the  siren  shall  make  music  in  his  ears, 
and  that  the  loud  laugh  of  festivity  shall  be  heard  in 
his  dwelling,  that  the  voice  of  song  and  dance  and  car¬ 
nival  shall  yield  him  succession  of  delight.  But  he 
asks,  “Is  she  steadfast?1’  And  he  hears  that  she  never 
enters  the  chambers  of  sorrow,  has  no  comfort  for  the 
dark  slumber  and  hopeless  winter  of  age.  A  bird  of 
passage,  she  flaps  her  giddy  wings  in  the  sunshine,  but 
at  the  first  approach  of  the  stormy  season  speeds  her 
flight  into  more  favored  climes.  Then  honor  is  a  can  ¬ 
didate,  and  she  tells  him  of  a  wreath  of  laurels,  of  the 
swellings  of  the  heart  as  it  listens  to  its  own  praise,  and 
of  the  untold  happiness  of  being  the  conversation  of  the 
world.  But  lie  asks,  “  Is  she  steadfast  ?”  And  they 
tell  him  that  chaplets  of  distinction  often  fade  in  a 
night;  they  tell  him  that  the  most  fickle  thing  in  the 
fickle  universe  is  popular  applause — how  the  same  lips 
that  shouted  “  Ilosanna  to  the  Son  of  David !”  shouted 
shortly  afterward,  “  Crucify  him !  crucify  him !”  and 
how  the  mob-idol  of  to-day  has  often  been  the  mob- 
victim  of  to-morrow.  Then  wealth  is  a  candidate ;  and 
she  tells  him  of  the  pleasure  of  hoarding,  of  the  joys  of 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


199 


possession,  of  the  pomp,  and  power,  and  flattery,  and 
obsequiousness  which  money  can  procure.  But  he  asks, 

“  Is  she  steadfast  ?”  He  hears  that  she  brings  with  her 
her  own  discontent ;  that  the  cares  of  keeping  are  worse 
than  the  cares  of  getting  ;  that  often  in  times  of  panic, 
like  the  scared  eagle,  wealth  takes  to  itself  wings  and 
flies  away  ;  and  even  if  a  man  enjoy  it  all  his  life  long, 
though  failure  and  panic  may  not  come  to  strip  the  lord 
of  his  property,  death  shall  come  and  strip  the  property 
of  its  lord. 

Well,  then,  after  all  these,  the  joys  of  earth,  have  been 
tried  and  severally  found  wanting,  God  brings  his 
claims  before  the  mind,  offering  to  be  the  soul’s  refuge 
and  everlasting  home.  True  itself,  it  does  not  shrink 
from  the  test.  God’s  aids  are  steadfast,  they  avail  in 
the  winter  as  well  as  in  the  summer ;  in  the  dark  season 
of  adversity  as  well  as  when  the  sun  shinetli  on  the 
path  5  when  frost  depresses  the  spirit  as  well  as  when 
sunshine  fills  it  with  laughter ;  when  friends  troop  up 
and  when  friends  forsake  equally  ;  when  fortune  smiles 
and  when  the  world  turns  the  cold  shoulder.  Are  they 
always  the  same  ?  Are  they  not  ?  Oh !  if  the  deco¬ 
rums  of  the  sanctuary  would  permit  it  to-night,  are 
there  not  many  of  yon  who  could  rise  up  in  your  deep 
baptism  of  sorrow  and  sing  in  the  words  of  tho  poet  ? — 

“  When  our  sorrows  most  increase, 

Then  his  richest  joys  are  given; 

Jesus  comes  in  our  distress, 

And  agony  is  heaven.” 


200 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


Are  they  progressive  ?  Will  they  last  as  long  as  the 
soul?  Will  they  keep  young  as  it  does,  and  keep  pace 
with  it  as  it  travels  along  toward  holiness  and  God  ? 
Oh,  yes !  for  before  all  the  immense  and  varied  lands¬ 
cape  of  blessings  upon  which  the  eye  can  rest,  existed 
the  fullness  of  Deity ;  beyond  it,  stretching  forth,  a 
broad,  fathomless  infinity — 

“  An  ocean  of  love  and  of  power, 

Which  neither  knows  measure  nor  end.” 

3.  Passing  over  several  topics  that  might  be  worthy 
of  our  meditation,  just  let  us  glance  for  a  moment  at 
the  support  offered  to  the  Christian  in  the  hour  and 
article  of  death.  Come  with  me,  then,  will  you?  it  will 
do  you  good.  Come  with  me  to  the  Christian’s  death¬ 
bed  ;  and  if  there  is  a  cold-hearted  and  skeptical  infidel 
of  your  acquaintance,  bring  him  with  you,  that  he  may 
learn  at  once  the  worthlessness  of  human  pride  and  the 
glory  of  the  God  of  love.  Stretched  upon  a  couch 
lies  the  poor  sufferer — 

“  Whose  weak,  attenuated  frame 
Shows  naught  of  being  but  a  name.” 

Is  this  the  man — is  this  the  being  who  but  a  little  while 
ago  towered  in  all  the  strength  of  his  pride  ?  Is  this 
clenched  hand  that  which  clasped  yours  in  friendship 
but  a  little  while  ago  ?  Ah,  how  true  it  is  that  he 
cometh  forth  as  a  flower  and  is  cut  down !  But  what 
is  it  fills  that  closing  eye  with  such  unwonted  bright¬ 
ness  ?  What  is  it  that  kindles  that  pallid  cheek  into 


tbe  Christian’s  inheritance. 


201 


such  angelic  animation  ?  Ah !  there  is  a  mightier  than 
you,  and  a  mightier  than  death ;  there  is  God  m  that 
death-chamber.  There  is  an  awe  and  a  solemnity 
which  tells  of  the  presence  of  God.  Listen .  lis  en  o 
the  unfaltering  firmness  with  which  that  voice  sings  : 

“  My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth ;  hut  God  is  the  strengt 
of  my  heart  and  my  portion  forever.”  Is  that  entiu- 
siasm?  Are  these  the  accents  of  frenzy  ?  Does  mad¬ 
ness  talk  so  calmly?  Has  the  prospect  of  dissolution 
no  chilling  influence?  Can  a  fictitious  excitement  sup¬ 
port  the  soul  at  such  an  hour?  Ah!  that  is  a  stout¬ 
hearted  hypocrisy  that  can  brave  the  agony  of  <  ymg. 

But  here  is  triumph  in  death.  Stoicism  boasts  o  iei 

examples;  patriotism  has  a  long  list  of  worthies,  tor 
whom  the  world  has  woven  garlands  of  undying  bloom 
But  here  is  a  man,  a  poor,  frail,  erring,  insigm  can 
man,  going  with  his  eyes  open,  with  the  full  conscious¬ 
ness  of  his  position,  down  the  dark  valley,  to  meet,  o 
grapple  with,  and  to  master  his  last  enemy.  There  is  a 
spectacle  of  the  morally  sublime  that  I  challenge  the 
wide  universe  to  equal.  And  this  sublime  spectacle  is 
not  of  the  wisdom  of  men  ;  it  is  just  the  power  of  God. 
But  while  we  have  been  talking  about  him,  the  man 
has  died  ;  the  last  convulsion  is  past  ;.the  last  breath  is 
drawn  ;  the  last  pulse  has  completed  its  feeble  throb— 

“  Oh  change,  oh  wondrous  change  ! 

There  lies  the  soulless  clod : 

The  sun  eternal  breaks ;  the  new  immortal  wakes— 

Wakes  with  his  God.” 


202 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


There  is  high  festivity  in  the  realms  of  the  blest  at  the 
accession  of  another  member  to  the  rejoicing  family. 
And  the  harpers  harping  with  their  harps  rest  in  their 
music  awhile,  and  the  angels,  who  pry  forever  into  the 
mysteries  of  God,  take  holiday  from  their  researches  for 
awhile,  and  all  heaven  is  gathered  to  witness  the  coro¬ 
nation  of  the  rejoicing  believer  as  the  crown  is  placed 
on  his  head  by  the  Master  for  whom  he  has  done  and 
suffered  so  much.  Ah  !  what  strange  act  is  that  ?  He 
takes  the  crown  and  casts  it  again  at  the  feet  of  the 
giver,  and  he  says,  assigning  liis  reason — listen,  we  shall 
heitr,  for  the  music  is  still  just  now — what  is  it?  “Ah, 
Lord,  the  harp,  and  the  robe,  and  the  crown,  and  the 
palm,  what  are  all  these  to  me  ?  These  are  only  the 
appendages  of  the  recompense.  Thou  art  my  reward  ; 
thou  art  my  portion ;  whom  have  I  in  heaven  itself  but 
thee?”  And  then  the  harpers  harping  with  their  harps 
break  out  again,  they  can  hold  in  no  longer,  and  heaven 
is  tilled  as  with  an  irrepressible  gush  of  melody,  “  Hot 
unto  us,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy  name  be  all  the 
glory.”  And  that  is  the  end.  Who  does  not  say,  “Let 
me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end 
be  like  his  ?”  Ah,  but  there  are  many  people  that  pray 
that  prayer,  who  would  like  to  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  but  who  do  not  like  to  live  the  life  of  the 
righteous.  But  they  go  together ;  believe  me  they  go 
together.  If  you  would  die  the  death  of  the  righteous, 
you  must  live  the  life  of  the  righteous,  even  a  life  of 
faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  “  who  hath  loved  you  and 


THE  CHRISTIAN^  INHERITANCE. 


203 


given  himself  for  you.”  There  are  some  in  this 
assembly  to-night,  who  are  not  living  the  life  of  the 
righteous ;  you  have  not  given  yourselves  unto  Christ 
and  his  people,  and  there  is  no  hope  of  that  death  for 
you. 

There  is  another  death  which  I  dare  not  trust  myself 
to  describe — scenes  of  agony  over  which  I  draw  the 
veil — the  very  thought  of  which  freezes  the  vitals  and 
curdles  the  blood !  Oh  !  come  to  Jesus  5  do  not  tempt 
upon  yourselves  any  such  doom  as  that.  Get  Christ  tor 
you  all.  “I  live,”  as  says  the  rejoiciDg  Apostle  ;  “  yet 
not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me  ”• — so  shall  everything 
lead  you  up  to  God.  It  could  not  lead  you  to  undervalue 
the  life  you  now  live;  it  would  not  make  you  love  less 
this  beautiful  world ;  everything  around  you  will  only 
have  mystic  meanings  which  will  be  interpreted  only 
by  Christ;  you  will  be  led  thus  from  nature  up  to 
nature’s  God.  Then,  as  you  pass  through  scenes  ot 
beauty  and  blessedness,  your  full  heart,  taking  refuge 
in  the  language  of  poesy,  will  sing — 

“  Lord  of  earth,  thy  forming  hand 
Well  this  beauteous  frame  hath  planned : 

Woods  that  wave,  and  hills  that  tower, 

Ocean  rolling  in  its  power ; 

All  that  strikes  the  gaze  unsought, 

All  that  charms  the  lonely  thought. 

Yet,  amid  this  scene  so  fair, 

Oh !  if  thou  wert  absent  there, 

What  were  all  those  joys  to  me ; 

Whom  have  I  on  earth  but  thee  ?” 


204 


the  Christian’s  inheritance. 


Then,  travelling  through  the  path  of  your  pilgrimage, 
God,  your  own  God,  will  bless  you,  and  will  wipe  away 
all  tears  from  your  faces,  and  will  uplift  you  in  the 
endurance  and  prepare  you  for  the  duties  of  life ;  and 
your  pilgrimage  will  go  on  calmly ;  mellow  eventide 
will  come  upon  you,  yet  at  eventide  there  shall  be 
light.  The  last  stroke  will  be  struck,  the  last  enemy 
encountered,  the  last  change  realized,  and  amid  the 
ranks  of  the  ransomed  you  pass  to  pay  your  first  hom¬ 
age  to  the  throne,  and  even  then,  taking  refuge  again 
in  the  language  of  poesy,  will  your  thoughts  be  the 
same — 

“  Lord  of  heaven,  beyond  our  sight 
Rolls  a  world  of  purer  light ; 

Where,  in  love’s  unclouded  reign, 

Parted  hands  are  clasped  again  ; 

Martyr’s  there  and  seraphs  high, 

Blest  and  glorious  company  ! 

While  immortal  music  rings 
From  unnumbered  seraph  strings. 

Oh,  that  scene  is  passing  fair ! 

Yet  if  thou  wert  absent  there, 

What  were  all  those  joys  to  me  ? 

Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?” 

May  God  bring  us  all  to  sing  that  song  forever,  for 
liis  name’s  sake. 


Yin. 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 

“  And  I  saw,  and  behold  a  white  horse ;  and  he  that  sat  on  him  had 
bow  ;  and  a  crown  was  given  unto  him ;  and  he  went  forth  conquering  and 
to  conquer” — Rev.  vi.,  2. 

How  animating  is  the  sound  of  war !  How  easily  can 
it  awaken  the  ardors  of  the  unrenewed  and  unsanctified 
heart  of  man  !  There  is  no  profession  in  which  he  can 
gain  more  renown  and  applause  than  in  the  profession 
of  arms.  It  is  the  birthplace  of  what  men  call  glory. 
Custom  has  baptized  it  honorable  ;  it  carries  with  it  a 
pomp  and  a  circumstance  of  which  other  professions 
are  destitute ;  it  has  nerved  the  arm  of  the  patriot,  it 
has  fired  the  genius  of  the  painter,  it  has  strung  and 
swept  the  poet’s  lyre  ;  nations  have  bowed  before  its 
shrine,  and  even  religion  has  prostituted  herself  to  bless 
and  consecrate  its  banners.  Yet  it  must  not  be  tor- 
gotten  that  for  the  most  part  human  conquerors  are  just 
murderers  upon  a  grand  scale — mighty  butchers  of 
human  kind.  Their  victories  are  won  amid  extermina¬ 
tion  and  havoc  ;  their  track  is  traced  in  ruin ;  there  is 
human  life  upon  their  laurels ;  and  if  they  wish  to 

acquire  a  name,  they  have  got  one ;  let  them  glory  as 

20£> 


206 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


they  can  in  its  possession — tlie  voice  of  blood  proclaims 
it  from  the  ground,  and  it  is  vaunted  from  earth  to 
heaven  by  the  wailings  of  orphaned  hearts,  and  by  the 
deep  execrations  of  despair.  The  sacred  writings,  how¬ 
ever,  tell  us  of  one  conqueror  whose  victories  were 
peacefully  achieved,  whose  battles  were  bloodlessly  won ; 
or  if  his  onward  march  was  discolored  by  blood,  it  was 
his  own.  It  is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  who  is  thus 
evidently  set  before  us;  he  who  “died  the  just  for  the 
unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  God.”  In  the  fulfill¬ 
ment  of  the  various  duties  connected  with  the  mediato¬ 
rial  office  which  he  had  undertaken,  he  is  frequently 
represented  as  going  out  to  battle  against  his  adver¬ 
saries,  as  routing  them  by  the  word  of  his  mouth,  and 
returning  in  exultation  and  triumph.  Instances  of  this 
you  will  easily  and  at  once  remember.  Thus,  in  the 
forty-fifth  Psalm  :  “  Gird  thy  sword  upon  thy  thigh,  O 
most  mighty,  with  thy  glory  and  thy  majesty.  And  in 
thy  majesty  ride  prosperously  because  of  truth  and 
meekness  and  righteousness ;  and  thy  right  hand  shall 
teach  thee  terrible  things.”  Again,  in  the  eleventh 
chapter  of  Luke :  “  When  a  strong  man  armed  keepeth 
his  palace,  his  goods  are  in  peace  :  but  when  a  stronger 
than  he  shall  come  upon  him  and  overcome  him,  he 
taketli  from  him  all  his  armor  wherein  he  trusted,  and 
divideth  his  spoils.”  And  yet,  again,  according  to  the 
mysterious  apocalypses  of  the  Book  of  Revelation, 
“  Then  shall  all  make  war  with  the  Lamb,  and  the 
Lamb  shall  overcome  them.”  It  matters  not  how 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


207 


numerous  or  liow  powerful  liis  enemies  may  be — alike 
over  tbe  powers  of  darkness  with  their  legioned  hosts 
0f  foes — alike  over  the  corruption  of  the  human  heart 
with  all  its  ramifications  of  depravity — alike  over  the 
false  systems  into  which  the  corruption  has  retreated, 
as  into  so  many  garrisoned  and  fortified  towns,  “  a 
crown  is  given  unto  him,  and  he  goeth  forth  conquering 
and  to  conquer.”  It  is  not  my  intention  to  enter  into 
all  the  details  of  this  interesting  and  absorbing  strife. 
I  should  just  like  to  concentrate  your  attention  upon 
one  phase  of  the  conflict— the  battle  of  the  old  serpent 
the  devil,  the  great  origin  of  evil,  under  whose  general¬ 
ship  the  others  are  mustered,  and  to  whose  commands 
they  submittingly  bow.  Behold,  then,  the  combat  be¬ 
yond  all  others  important — the  combat  between  Christ 
and  Satan  for  the  human  soul ,  and,  as  you  trace  the 
progress  of  the  fight,  remember  with  encouragement, 
and  say  that  “  He  goeth  forth  conquering  and  to 
conquer.”  It  will  be  necessary,  in  order  that  we  have 
the  whole  matter  before  us,  that  we  introduced  the 
cause  of  strife,  the  battle,  and  the  victory. 

I.  As  to  the  cause  of  strife.  You  know  that  when 
the  all-comprising  benevolence  of  God  found  heaven 
too  small  for  the  completion  of  his  vast  designs,  this 
earth  arose  in  order  and  in  beauty  from  his  forming 
hands.  After  by  his  Spirit  he  had  garnished  the 
heavens,  and  scattered  upon  the  fair  face  of  nature  the 
labor  of  his  hand  and  the  impress  of  his  feet,  as  the 
fairest  evidence  of  Divine  workmanship,  the  last  and 


208 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


most  excellent  of  his  works  below,  he  made  man  in  his 
own  image,  after  his  own  likeness.  The  soul,  then,  was 
the  property  of  him  by  whom  it  was  created,  who 
imparted  to  it  its  high  and  noble  faculties,  by  whom, 
notwithstanding  its  defilement,  it  is  still  sustained,  and 
from  whom  proceed  the  retributions  which  shall  fix  its 
doom  forever.  Man  was  created  in  possession  of  that 
moral  purity,  that  absolute  freedom  from  sin,  which 
constituted  of  itself  assimilation  to  his  Maker’s  image. 
And  so  long  as  he  retained  that  image,  so  long  was  he 
the  Divine  property,  and  the  Divine  portion  alone. 
But  the  moment  he  sinned,  the  moment  of  the  perver¬ 
sion  of  his  nature,  of  the  estrangement  of  his  faculties, 
of  the  alienation  of  his  heart,  he  came  under  a  different 
tenure,  and  became  a  vassal  of  a  different  lord. 

Satan  himself,  once  an  inhabitant  of  the  high  realms 
of  glory,  but  hurled  from  that  giddy  height  for  diso¬ 
bedience  and  pride,  was  mysteriously  permitted  to 
tempt  our  first  parents  in  the  garden,  with  the  full 
knowledge,  on  their  part,  that,  standing  as  they  did  in 
their  representative,  and  public  character,  if  they  fell 
the  consequences  of  that  one  transgression  were  en¬ 
tailed  upon  all  their  posterity.  "With  the  circumstances 
of  the  original  temptation  you  are  of  course  familiar, 
and  the  issue  of  it  you  have  in  that  one  verse  in  the 
book  of  Genesis :  “  Because  thou  hast  done  this,  thou 
art  cursed  above  all  cattle,  and  above  every  beast  of 
the  field  ;  upon  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,  and  dust  shalt 
thou  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life.”  This  tells  us  of  the 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


209 


contravention — the  direct  contravention — of  a  known 
law  i  a  law  which  Grod,  as  the  supreme  Creator,  had  a 
perfect  right  to  institute  5  a  law  which  man,  as  a 
dependent  creature,  was  under  binding  obligations  to 
obey.  It  was  instituted  avowedly  as  a  test  of  obe¬ 
dience  ;  and  this  is  all  we  would  answer  to  the  labored 
sarcasms  of  foolish  infidelity.  Any  wayfaring  man, 
though  a  fool,  can  curl  his  lip  and  declaim  against  the 
insignificance  of  the  act  from  which  such  mighty  issues 
sprang  5  but  he  forgets  that  the  moment  the  tempta¬ 
tion  was  yieled  to,  there  was  in  human  nature  a  very 
incarnation  of  the  devil.  Under  that  demoniacal  pos¬ 
session  the  man  was  prepared  for  any  infraction,  fiom 
the  eating  of  the  forbidden  fruit  to  the  subversion  of  an 
almighty  throne  5  •  and  he  who,  under  such  circum¬ 
stances,  would  violate  a  known  command,  however 
trifling,  would  not,  if  the  circumstances  had  been 
equal,  have  shrunk  away  from  the  endeavor  to  scale 
the  battlements  of  heaven,  and  pluck  the  crown  of 
divinity  from  the  very  brow  of  the  Eternal.  Hence  it 
was,  by  yielding  to  the  suggestions  ot  the  tempter,  and 
to  his  infamous  temptation,  that  the  portals  of  the 
palace  were  flung  wide  open  for  the  strong  man  armed 
to  enter  ;  and  hither,  alas  !  he  came  with  all  his  sad  and 
fearful  train,  enthroning  himself  upon  the  heart,  setting 
up  his  image,  as  Bunyan  hath  it,  in  the  market-place 
of  the  town  of  Man-soul ;  fortifying  every  avenue,  filling 
every  chamber,  corrupting  every  faculty,  enervating 
every  inhabitant,  and  announcing  every  moment  the 


210 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


symbols  of  liis  own  resolve  to  grasp  and  bold  it  forever. 
Here  then  is  in  brief  the  cause  of  this  celestial  strife. 
The  soul,  a  colony  of  heaven,  had  been  taken  usurped 
possession  of,  by  the  powers  of  hell,  and  the  effort  to 
restore  it  to  allegiance  was  the  main  cause  of  this 
celestial  war. 

Still  further  to  impress  you  with  the  weighty  causes 
of  the  strife,  let  us  remind  you  for  a  moment  of  the 
character  of  the  government  thus  by  daring  usurpation 
acquired.  The  dominion  which  Satan  exercises  over 
the  human  soul  is  despotic  in  its  character.  He  is  not  a 
monarch,  he  is  an  autocrat ;  he  admits  no  compromise, 
he  brooks  no  rival,  he  pours  his  uncleanness  upon  every 
part,  and  reigns  supremely  over  every  power  and  every 
faculty  of  man.  True,  the  man  is  not  always  conscious 
of  his  slavery  ;  that  is  one  of  the  cunningest  secrets  of 
his  power,  that  he  persuades  his  vassals  that  they  are 
free,  and  their  offended  language  to  any  one  who 
questions  the  fact  is,  “  We  be  Abraham’s  children  that 
were  never  in  bondage  to  any  man.”  He  brands  them 
as  is  own,  and  then,  content  to  wear  his  badge,  they 
may  choose  their  own  trappings.  He  lias  no  uniform. 
Some  of  his  soldiers  are  in  rags  and  others  in  purple, 
and  his  very  choicest  veterans  have  stolen  the  livery  of 
heaven.  There  is  not  one  within  the  compass  of  the 
whole  human  family  who  is  not  subject  to  his  authority, 
naturally  led  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  will.  And 
then,  this  government  of  Satan  over  the  human  soul  is 
not  only  despotic  but  degrading.  Slavery  in  any  form 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


211 


is  essentially  connected  with  degradation,  and  in  the 
case  before  us  the  connection  must  he  regarded  as  the 
most  palpable  and  emphatic  of  all.  The  essence  and 
exaltation  of  moral  dignity  are  assimilations  to  the 
image  of  God.  Whatever  recedes  from  that  image 
must  of  necessity  debase  and  degrade.  Now  the  course 
of  man’s  life,  as  it  has  been,  ever  since  the  fall,  a 
course  of  constant  and  increasing  recession  from  God, 
presents  a  spectacle  of  moral  degradation  which  is 
grievous  to  behold :  the  whole  nature  has  fallen ;  the 
understanding  has  become  darkened,  and  is  conversant 
only  with  what  is  contemptible  and  low  ;  the  affections, 
which  once  soared  sublimely  upward,  now  cleave  to 
worldly  objects,  objects  that  perish  in  the  using ;  the 
passions  have  become  loyal  servants  of  the  usurper,  and 
keep  their  zealous  patrol  in  the  court-yard  of  his 
palace  ;  the  will,  which  once  inclined  to  good,  is  now 
fierce  and  greedy  after  evil;  imagination v revels  in 
fondest  dalliance  with  sin  for  its  paramour ;  and  con¬ 
science,  intoxicated  with  opiate  draughts,  and  in  that 
intoxication  smitten  with  paralysis,  gazes  hopelessly 
upon  the  desolation  ;  or  if  at  times  stirred  by  the  spirit 
within,  it  breaks  out  with  a  paroxysm  and  terrifies  the 
man  with  its  thunder,  he  is  persuaded  to  regard  it  as 
the  incoherence  of  some  meddling  drunkard,  or  the 
ravings  of  some  frantic  madman.  Such  is  the  condi¬ 
tion  to  which  the  usurpation  of  the  evil  one  has 
reduced  the  human  soul.  It  is  first  earthly ,  scraping 
its  affluence  or  its  pleasure  together  ;  and  then,  yet 


212 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


more  degrading,  there  is  the  transformation  that  hap¬ 
pened  to  Nebuchadnezzar,  the  heart  of  a  man  is  taken 
out,  and  the  heart  of  a  beast  is  put  in  ;  and  then,  as 
like  grows  to  like,  and  as  a  process  of  assimilation  is 
constantly  going  on,  it  grows  into  its  master’s  image  ; 
the  mark  of  the  beast  becomes  more  distinct  and  pal¬ 
pable,  every  feature  stands  confessed  of  Satan’s  obscene 
and  loathsome  likeness,  and  there  is  a  living  proof  of 
the  truth  of  the  scale  upon  which  Scripture  has 
graduated  man’s  increasing  degeneracy.  First  earthly, 
then  sensual,  then  devilish.  This  is  a  fearful  picture  ; 
is  it  not  ?  Ah  !  you  see  the  man,  or  his,  bacchanalian 
orgies,  or  his  midnight  prowl,  but  you  do  not  see  the 
fiend  that  dogs  his  steps  and  goads  him  to  destruction. 
You  see  the  degradation  of  the  nature  that  once  bore 
the  image  of  God,  but  you  do  not  see  the  jibing, 
mocking  demon  that  is  behind.  You  trace  intelligibly 
enough  the  infernal  brand,  but  you  cannot  hear  the 
peals  of  infernal  laughter  as  the  arch-devil,  looking 
down  upon  the  soul  that  he  has  stormed,  exults  in  the 
extremity  of  the  disgrace  and  glories  in  the  pollution 
of  the  fallen. 

The  government  of  Satan  over  the  human  soul  is  not 
only  despotic  and  degrading,  but  destructive.  Sin  and 
punishment  are  inseparably  allied  ;  the  powers  of  dark¬ 
ness,  although  mysteriously  permitted  a  certain  amount 
of  influence,  are  themselves,  in  punishment,  “  reserved 
in  chains  under  darkness  until  the  judgment  of  the 
great  day.”  A  man  w’ho  transgresses,  since  no  coer- 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROK. 


213 


cion  comes  upon  the  freedom  of  liis  will,  must  neces¬ 
sarily  he  regarded  as  willful  ;  he  is  under  the  cuises  of  a 
violated  law,  nay,  condemned  altogether,  foi  the 
wrath  of  God  abidetli  upon  him.”  God  will  “  pour  out 
indignation,  and  wrath,  and  tribulation,  and  anguish 
upon  every  soul  of  man  that  doeth  evil ;  upon  the  Jew 
first,  and  also  upon  the  Gentile for  there  is  no  re¬ 
spect  of  persons  with  God.  I  am  speaking  to  uncon¬ 
verted  sinners  to-night  5  to  some  of  refined  and  delicate 
sensibility,  shocked  at  the  ribaldry  oi  the  vulgai,  and 
at  the  licentiousness  of  the  profane.  I  tell  you  there 
is  no  respect  of  persons  with  God.  If  you  flee  not  to  a 
high  and  mighty  Redeemer,  if  you  repose  not  in 
present  reliance  upon  Christ,  for  you  there  remaineth 
nothing  but  a  death  whese  bitterest  ingredient  is  that  it 
can  never  die,  but  that  it  has  eternity  about  it,  eteinify 
beyond  it,  and  eternity  within  it,  and  the  curse  of  God, 
upon  it,  fretting  it  and  following  it  forever. 

Thank  God,  there  is  a  promise  of  a  perfect  and  de¬ 
lightful  deliverance  from  this  thralldom  under  which 
man  has  been  groaning.  Christ  has  come  down  on 
purpose  to  deliver  and  ransom  him,  and  he  goetli  forth 
conquering  and  to  conquer.  In  the  counsels  of  the 
eternal  Godhead,  in  foresight  of  the  temptation  of 
Satan  and  of  the  thralldom  and  depravity  of  man, 
Christ  was  induced  to  work  out  a  counteracting  scheme, 
by  which,  in  the  beautiful  language  of  ancient  pro¬ 
phecy,  the  prey  of  the  mighty  should  be  taken  away 
and  the  lawful  captive  delivered.  The  first  initimatiou 


214 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


of  this  scheme  was  given  just  when  the  first  shadow  of 
sin  swept  over  the  world.  “  The  seed  of  the  woman 
shall  bruise  the  serpent’s  head.”  From  that  time  there 
was  a  continued  series  of  operations,  in  the  good  provi¬ 
dence  of  God  perpetuated  for  thousands  of  years,  all 
tending  to  the  fulfillment  of  this  original  promise,  and 
the  achievement  of  this  original  plan.  At  last,  in  the 
fullness  of  time — the  time  by  prophet  seers  foretold, 
and  by  believing  saints  expected — in  the  fullness  of  time, 
the  Son  of  God  was  incarnated  in  the  nature  that  had 
sinned,  and  then  it  was  that  the  battle  in  earnest  began. 

IT.  Look,  then,  at  the  Divine  Saviour,  “  stronger 
than  the  strong  man  armed,”  invested  with  far  higher 
qualifications,  and  wielding  far  mightier  power.  And 
how  is  this?  He  is  the  babe  in  Bethlehem,  the 
rejected  wanderer,  the  arraigned  rebel,  the  scourged 
and  spit  upon,  the  Hazarene,  the  crucified.  But  these 
are  only  voluntary  submissions,  and  in  the  deepest  humi¬ 
liation  there  slumbers  Omnipotence  within.  “  All  power 
is  given  unto  Me  both  in  heaven  and  in  earth,”  and  this 
power  is  all  enlisted  upon  the  side  of  salvation  and  of 
mercy.  It  is  not  the  power  of  the  lightning,  that 
blasts  while  it  brightens ;  it  is  not  the  power  of  the 
whirlwind,  whose  track  is  only  known  by  the  carnage 
and  desolation  that  it  leaves  behind  it.  It  is  the  power 
of  the  water  rill,  that  drops  and  drops,  and  in  its  drop¬ 
ping  melts  the  most  stern  and  difficult  of  nature’s 
forces.  It  is  the  power  of  the  light ;  it  flows  in  ener¬ 
getic  silence,  you  cannot  hear 'it  as  it  flows,  and  yet  it 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


215 


permeates  and  illumines  all.  He  is  strong,  but  be  is 
strong  to  deliver  ;  he  is  mighty,  but,  in, is  own  powerful 
language,  he  is  “  mighty  to  save.”  It  often  happens — 
it  used  to  do  so  more  frequently  than  it  does  now — in 
the  history  of  the  strifes  of  nations,  and  of  the  harsh 
scenes  of  war,  that  the  interest  of  spectators  was  drawn 
aside  from  hostile  ranks  to  two  courageous  champions, 
who  separated  themselves  from  opposing  armies  for 
single  combat  with  each  other,  and  the  fate  of  armies 
appeared  to  the  spectators  as  nothing  compared  with 
who  should  be  the  victor  in  this  individual  strife.  O  ! 
conceive,  if  it  were  possible,  a  single  combat  between 
the  rival  princes  of  light  and  darkness,  the  grand,  the 
transcendent,  the  immeasurable  issue  of  which  shall  be 
the  ruin  or  redemption  of  the  human  soul !  I  cannot 
limn  it ;  I  cannot  bring  it  fairly  before  you ;  the  sub¬ 
ject  is  too  mighty  :  and  yet  a  thought  or  two  may  not 
inaptly  illustrate  the  battle  that  is  now  before  us. 

See,  then,  the  lists  are  spread;  the  champions  are 
there.  Eager  angels  crowd  around,  for  they  have  an 
interest  in  the  strife,  and  they  are  anxious  to  tune  their 
harps  to  the  anthems  of  regeneration  again.  Exulting 
demons  are  there,  flushed  with  high  hopes  they  daie 
not  name,  that  vaunt  of  a  ruined  universe  and  of  a 
peopled  hell.  This  is  no  gentle  passage  at  arms  ;  this  is 
no  gorgeous  tournament,  or  mimic  fight,  or  holiday 
review  ;  the  destinies  of  a  world  of  souls  are  trembling 
in  the  balance  now — depend  for  weal  or  woe  upon  the 
issue  of  this  mortal  strife. 


216 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


The  first  grapple  seems  to  have  been  in  the  tempta¬ 
tion  in  the  wilderness  ;  for  at  the  commencement  of  our 
Saviour’s  public  ministry  the  enemy  endeavored  to 
tempt  the  second  Adam  after  the  same  fashion  as  he 
had  tempted  the  first ;  and  when  wearied  with  labor, 
and  exhausted  with  endurance  and  suffering  from  the 
pangs  of  hunger  and  of  thirst,  he  brought  before  him  a 
similar  order  of  temptation  to  that  which  had  been 
successful  in  the  garden  of  Eden.  Ah !  but  there  was  a 
mightier  Adam  in  human  flesh  this  time  with  whom  he 
had  to  deal.  Grasping  the  sword  of  the  spirit,  with  its 
trenchant  blade,  he  cut  asunder  the  flimsy  sophistries 
of  the  tempter’s  weaving,  and  the  discomfited  demon 
went  baffled  away ;  and  angels  came  and  ministered 
unto  Jesus — fanned  with  their  ambrosial  wings  his 
burning  brow,  and  poured  their  offices  of  kindness 
upon  his  fatigued  and  sorrowing  soul. 

Defeated,  but  not  conquered,  the  enemy  returned  to 
the  charge ;  and  the  next  grapple  was  in  the  perform¬ 
ance  of  miracles.  It  is  customary  in  ordinary  warfare, 
you  know,  whenever  a  fortress  is  taken,  for  the  con¬ 
queror  to  garrison  it  with  some  of  his  own  soldiers,  and 
leave  some  trusty  captain  in  charge.  The  enemy 
appears  to  have  acted  upon  this  plan,  and  in  token  of 
his  usurped  authority  over  the  human  race,  he  caused 
certain  of  his  servants  to  enter  into  the  bodies  of  men. 
When  Christ  came  into  the  world  they  brought  unto 
him  those  that  were  grievously  vexed  with  devils.  He 
sat  down  before  some  of  their  Sebastopols  of  the  evil 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


217 


one,  and  as  speaking  by  that  high  exorcism,  he  at  once 
dislodged  the  intruders  ;  and  as,  some  in  moody  silence, 
and  others  with  piteous  cries,  they  rushed  out  from  the 
places  they  had  agonized,  we  can  trace  in  their  com¬ 
plaining  the  confession  of  their  defeat :  “  What  have 
we  to  do  with  thee,  Jesus,  thou  Son  of  God.  Art  thou 
come  to  torment  us  before  the  time  ?” 

The  next  was  the  death  grapple.  And  was  the  cham¬ 
pion  smitten  ?  Did  he  bend  beneath  that  felon’s 
stroke?  Was  there  victory  at  last  for  the  powers  of 
hell?  Imagine,  if  you  can,  how  there  would  be  joy  is 
the  breast  of  the  evil  one  when  the  Saviour  expired ; 
how  he  would  exult  at  that  victory  which  had  more 
than  recompensed  the  struggle  of  four  thousand  years. 
Hours  roll  on  ;  he  makes  no  sign  ;  day  and  night  suc¬ 
ceed  each  other  ;  there  is  no  break  upon  the  slumber — 
their  victory  appears  complete  and  final.  Shall  no  one 
undeceive  them  ?  Ho ;  let  them  enjoy  their  triumph 
as  they  may.  It  were  cruel  to  disturb  a  dream  like 
that,  which  will  have  so  terrible  an  awaking.  But  we, 
brethren,  with  the  light  of  eighteen  hundred  years 
streaming  down  upon  that  gory  field,  understand  the 
matter  better.  He  died,  of  course,  for  only  thus  could 
death  be  abolished  ;  he  was  counted  with  transgressors, 
of  course,  for  thus  only  could  sin  be  forgiven  ;  he  was 
made  a  curse  for  us,  of  course,  because  thus  ouly  could 
he  turn  the  curse  into  a  blessing.  O  !  to  faith’s  en¬ 
lightened  sight  there  is  a  surpassing  glory  upon  that 
cross.  He  was  never  so  kingly  as  when  girt  about  with 

10 


218 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


that  crown  of  thorns ;  there  was  never  so  much  royalty 
upon  that  regal  brow  as  when  he  said,  “  It  is  finished,” 
and  he  died. 

There  only  remains  one  more  grapple,  and  that  was  in 
the  rising  from,  the  dead  and  ascension  into  heaven.  It  is 
considered  the  principal  glory  of  a  conqueror,  you  know, 
not  merely  that  he  repels  the  aggressive  attacks  of  his 
enemy,  but  when  he  carries  the  war  into  that  enemy’s  camp 
and  makes  him  own  himself  vanquished  in  the  metropolis 
of  his  own  empire.  This  Christ  did  by  concealing  himself 
for  a  while  within  the  chambers  of  the  grave.  We  cannot 
tell  you  much  about  the  battle,  for  it  was  a  night  attack, 
it  took  place  in  darkness ;  but  we  can  tell  the  issue,  because 
on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  the  sepulchre  was  empty, 
and  the  Redeemer  had  gone  forth  into  Galilee.  This 
was  only  like  the  garnering  up  of  the  fruits  of  the 
conflict.  The  cross  had  settled  it.  It  was  finished 
when  he  said  it  was,  upon  the  cross  ;  but  this  was  a 
sudden  surprise  in  the  camp,  when  the  guards  were 
drawn  otf,  and  the  soldiers  carousing  in  the  flush  of 
fancied  victory.  By  death  he  had  abolished  death — 
him  that  had  the  power  of  death.  By  his  resurrection 
he  spoiled  principalities  and  powers  ;  and  then  he  went 
up  that  he  might  “  make  a  show  of  them  openly.” 
You  can  almost  follow  him  as  he  goes,  and  the  chal¬ 
lenge  is  given  as  he  rises  and  nears  the  gates  of  the 
celestial  city  :  u  Who  is  this  that  cometli  from  Edom 
with  dyed  garments  from  Bozra  ?  this  that  is  glorious 
in  his  apparel  travelling  in  the  greatness  of  his 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


219 


strength  2”  And  then  comes  the  answer :  “  I  that  speak 
in  righteousness,  mighty  to  save.”  “  Lift  up  your 
heads,  O  ye  gates  ;  and  be  ye  lifted  up  ye  everlasting 
doors  ;  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in.  Who  is 
this  King  of  glory  ?  The  Lord  strong  and  mighty,  the 
Lord  mighty  in  battle.  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye 
gates  ;  even  lift  them  up  ye  everlasting  doors  ;  and  the 
King  of  glory  shall  come  in.” 

u  And  through  the  portals  wide  outspread 
The  vast  procession  pours.” 

And  on  he  marches  through  the  shining  ranks  of  the 
ransomed,  until  he  gets  to  the  throne  and  points  to  the 
captives  of  his  bow  and  spear,  and  claims  his  recom¬ 
pense.  And  u  there  is  silence  in  heaven  and  there  is 
given  unto  him  “  a  name  that  is  above  every  name  ; 
that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  and 
every  tongue  confess  that  he  is  Lord,  to  the  glory  of 
God  the  father.”  It  is  finished.  Now  he  rests  from  his 
labors,  and  now  he  sheathes  his  sword,  and  now  he 
wears  his  crown. 

III.  Just  a  word  or  two  upon  the  victory  that  he 
gained.  It  was  complete,  it  was  benevolent,  it  was 
unchanging. 

The  attack  which  the  Saviour  made  upon  the  enemy 
was  such  as  to  tear  away  the  very  sources  and  energies 
of  his  power.  Mark  how  each  fresh  onset,  whether 
from  earth  or  hell,  has  only  enhanced  his  glory  and 
brightened  the  conqueror’s  crown.  He  vanquished  in 


220 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


his  own  person  by  dying,  and  in  the  person  of  his  fol¬ 
lowers  he  has  continued  to  manifest  that  indestructible 
energy  which  was  always  manifest  just  when  it  seemed 
to  be  overthrown.  Why,  at  the  commencement  of 
Christianity  would  not  any  one  have  thought  that  a 
breath  would  annihilate  it  and  exterminate  the  name 
of  its  founder  forever  ?  And  there  they  were — 
Caesar  on  the  throne,  Herod  on  the  bench,  Pilate  in  the 
judgment-hall,  Caiaphas  in  the  temple,  priests  and 
soldiers,  Jews  and  Romans,  all  united  together  to  crush 
the  Galilean,  and  the  Galilean,  overcame.  And  so  it 
has  been  in  all  ages  until  now.  Presecution  has  lifted 
up  her  head  against  the  truth  ;  war-wolves  have  lapped 
up  the  blood  of  God’s  saints,  and  for  a  time  silenced  the 
witness  of  confessors,  and  the  testimony  of  the  faithful 
has  gone  upward  amid  the  crackling  of  fagots,  and 
the  ascending  flame  has  been  the  chariot  of  fire  in 
which  rising  Elijahs  have  mounted  to  heaven.  And 
not  merely  is  the  completeness  of  this  triumph  mani¬ 
fested  in  the  aggregate,  but  in  the  individual.  Hot 
only  is  every  man  brought  into  a  salvable  state,  but 
every  part  of  every  man  is  redeemed.  The  poor  body 
is  not  forgotten :  it  is  taught  to  cast  off  the  grave 
clothes  and  anticipate  an  everlasting  residence  in 
heaven.  The  mind  crouches  no  longer  ;  it  emancipates 
itself  from  its  vassalage  and  stands  erect  in  the  liberty 
wherewith  Christ  made  it  free.  And  the  whole  man, 
who  was  a  while  ago  an  alien,  degraded  and  desolate,  a 
fitting  companion  of  the  beast  in  his  lair,  a  worthy  fol- 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


221 


lower  in  the  serpent’s  trail,  is  now  “  clothed  and  in  his 
right  mind,”  careering  along  in  the  enterprises  of  godli¬ 
ness,  a  fellow-citizen  with  saints  and  the  household  of  God. 

And  then  the  triumphs  of  the  Saviour  are  benevolent 
too.  Tell  me  not  of  human  glory,  it  is  a  prostituted 
word.  Tell  me  not  of  Agincourt,  and  Cressy,  and 
Waterloo,  and  of  the  high  places  of  Moloch  worship, 
where  men  have  been  alike  both  priests  and  victims. 
One  verse  of  the  poet  aptly  describes  them  all  : 

“  Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life, 

Last  eve  in  beauty’s  circle  proudly  gay. 

The  midnight  brought  the  signal  sound  of  strife ; 

The  morning  marshalling  in  arms ;  the  day 
Battle’s  magnificently  stern  array, 

The  thunder  clouds  close  o’er  it,  which  when  rent, 

The  earth  is  covered  quick  with  other  clay, 

Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  heaped  and  pent, 

Rider  and  horse,  friend  and  foe,  in  one  rude  burial  blent  .” 

But  what  is  it  to  be  seen  in  the  time  of  the  Lord’s 
victory  ?  Plains  covered  with  traces  of  recent  carnage, 
and  of  recent  havoc  ?  What  is  there  to  be  heard  in  the 
time  of  the  Lord’s  victory  ?  Orphans  wailing  the  dead, 
widows  bemoaning  those  that  have  departed  ?  Mo,  but 
a  voice  breathing  down  a  comfortable  word  to  men  : 
“  They  shall  neither  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all  my  holy 
mountain,  saith  the  Lord.”  The  procession  of  this 
conqueror  consists  of  saved  souls,  and  eternity  shall 
consecrate  the  scene. 

And  then  the  triumphs  of  the  Saviour  are  not  only 


222  THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 

complete  and  benevolent,  but  unchanging.  The  things 
that  are  now  are  very  transitory.  The  sand  of  the 
desert  is  not  more  unstable ;  the  cliatf  of  the  summer 
threshing-floor  is  not  more  helpless  on  the  wind ;  but 
the  Saviour’s  triumphs  brighten  with  the  lapse  of  time ; 
their  lustre  time  can  tarnish  not,  nor  death  itself 
destroy.  O  !  think  of  the  multitude  that  have  been 
already  saved !  think  of  the  multitude  who  went  up  in 
the  early  ages  of  the  Church  with  its  enrichments  of 
blessings ;  think  of  those  who  had  been  taken  off  to 
heaven  before  they  ever  had  time  to  sin  after  the  simili¬ 
tude  of  Adam’s  transgression — souls  ransomed  by  the 
blood  of  atonement  taken  from  birth  under  the  wing  of 
the  quivering  cherub  right  away  into  the  realms  of 
blessedness  and  rest ;  think  of  those  from  the  time  of 
the  Saviour’s  incarnation  until  now  who  have  passed 
through  death  triumphant  home ;  think  of  the  multi¬ 
tudes  now  upon  earth  that  are  working  out  their  salva¬ 
tion  with  fear  and  trembling  ;  think  of  the  still  greater 
multitudes  that  shall  yet  press  into  the  Church  in  the 
times  of  its  millennial  glory,  when  the  gates  of  it  shall 
not  be  shut  day  or  night,  because  there  shall  be  no 
chance  of  shutting  them,  the  people  crowd  in  so  fast. 
O.what  a  Jubilee  in  heaven  !  O  gathering  of  emanci¬ 
pated  spirits !  Limit  the  extent  of  the  atonement ! 
Who  dares  do  it  ?  Talk  about  Christ  dying  for  a  few 
scattered  families  of  the  sons  of  men  merely  !  Why,  it 
is  to  charge  my  Saviour  with  cowardice,  and  bring  a 
slur  upon  his  conduct  in  the  field.  If  there  be  ooo 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


223 


solitary  soul  the  wide  universe  through  for  whom 
Christ  did  not  die,  over  that  soul  death  has  triumphed, 
and  the  conquest  of  my  Saviour  is  imperfect  and 
incomplete.  O  !  he  seems  to  stand  in  his  triumphal 
chariot,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  universe,  with 
exulting  heaven  before  and  with  tormented  hell  be¬ 
hind  ;  and  there  is  not  an  unconquered  rebel  there  but 
the  glad  halleluiahs  of  the  one,  and  the  solemn  acqui- 
escences  of  the  other,  peal  out  the  universe’s  anthem, 
“  He  is  Lord  of  all.” 

And  now  which  side  are  you?  Pardon  the  abrupt¬ 
ness  of  the  question,  but  answer  it  to  your  consciences 
and  to  your  God  notwithstanding.  Which  side  are 
you  ?  There  is  no  neutrality  in  this  war,  or  if  there  be 
one  here  that  intends  to  preserve  a  dastardly  neutrality, 
he  will  get  the  hottest  of  the  battle,  and  be  exposed  to 
the  cross-fire  of  both  sides.  Which  side  are  you  ?  Do 
you  belong  to  the  Lord,  or  the  Lord’s  enemies  ?  Ask 
yourselves  that  question  in  the  sight  of  God.  I  never 
knew,  until  I  looked  upon  it  in  this  aspect,  the  force 
and  power  of  a  certain  question  which  the  Saviour 
presented  in  the  days  of  his  flesh.  I  have  admired  the 
capacities  of  the  human  soul,  that  it  has  a  memory  that 
can  recall  the  past,  imagination  that  can  penetrate  the 
future :  that  it  has  a  will  that  no  man  can  tame,  that  it 
has  immortality  as  its  heritage.  But  I  see  all  heaven 
in  earnest  there,  and  all  hell  in  earnest  yonder,  and  the 
prize  of  the  conflict  is  one  poor  human  soul ;  and  then 
I  see,  as  I  never  saw  before,  what  an  intensity  of 


224 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


emphasis  there  is  in  the  awful  inquiry  :  “  What  shall  it 
profit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose 
his  own  soul  ?”  Brethren,  how  shall  it  he  with  you  ? 
“  Whosoever  therefore  will  be  a  friend  of  the  world,  is 
the  enemy  of  God and  the  doom  of  the  enemies  of 
God  is  brought  before  us  in  the  Bible :  “  Bring  hither 
those  mine  enemies  that  would  not  I  should  reign  over 
them,  and  slay  them  before  me.”  On  which  side  are 
you  ?  There  is  one  passage  that  I  should  just  like  to 
bring  before  you,  which  has  always  appeared  to  me  to 
be  one  of  the  most  fearful  in  the  whole  compass  of  the 
book  of  God  :  “  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of 
a  man” — mark  it,  it  does  not  say  when  he  is  driven 
out,  it  does  not  say  when  he  is  dispossessed  by  superior 
powers ;  but  the  awful  idea,  almost  too  awful  to  be 
entertained,  is  that  there  are  some  people  in  this  world 
of  ours  of  whom  Satan  is  so  sure  that  he  can  leave 
them  for  a  while,  perfectly  certain  that  they  will  sweep 
and  garnish  his  house  in  his  absence,  and  prepare  it  for 
seven  other  spirits  more  inveterate  and  cruel — “  When 
the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a  man  he  walketh 
through  dry  places,  seeking  rest,  and  findeth  none. 
Then  he  saith,  I  will  return  unto  my  house.”  O 
mockery  of  that  quiet  empire  !  “  To  my  house.”  The 

tenancy  has  not  changed ;  lie  knows  full  well  there  is 
too  much  love  of  the  master’s  service  in  the  heart  of 
the  man  for  that.  “  I  will  return  into  my  house  from 
whence  I  came  out ;  and  when  he  is  come  he  findeth  it 
empty,  swept  and  garnished.  Then  goeth  he,  and 


THE  HEAVENLY  CONQUEROR. 


225 


taketh  with  himself  seven  other  spirits  more  wicked 
than  himself,  and  they  enter  in  and  dwell  there  ;  and 
the  last  state  of  that  man  is  worse  than  the  first.”  Oh 
horrible !  horrible !  Not  merely  to  have  Satan  as  a 
guest,  but  to  sweep  and  garnish  the  house  that  he  may 
come  in,  and  that  he  may  bring  with  him  seven  other 
spirits  more  wicked  than  himself.  And  are  you  doing 
that  ?  Is  there  one  in  the  presence  of  God  to-night  to 
whom  this  awful  passage  will  apply  ?  Oh,  I  thank  God 
I  can  preach  to  you  a  present  salvation  in  the  name 
Jesus.  Be  delivered  from  that  bondage  of  yours,  for 
Christ  has  come  down  on  purpose  that  he  may  deliver, 
and  that  he  may  rescue,  and  he  goeth  forth  conquering 
and  to  conquer.  “Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you; 
seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you.”  There  is  salvation  for  you  from  the  power 
of  death,  and  from  the  thralldom  and  ascendency  of 
besetting  sin,  and  from  the  grasp  of  the  destroyei. 
There  is  salvation  for  you  in  Christ  J esus  the  Lord. 
Wherefore  he  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  of  human 
guilt,  to  the  uttermost  of  human  life,  to  the  uttermost 
of  human  time.  May  God  help  you,  for  Christ  s  sake. 


10* 


; 


* 

■ 


IX. 


THE  CHRISTIAN’S  DEATH,  LIFE,  PROSPECTS, 

AND  DUTY. 

“  Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  on  the  earth.  For 
ye  are  dead,  and  your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  When  Christ,  who 
is  our  life,  shall  appear,  then  shall  ye  also  appear  with  him  in  glory.” — 
Collossians  iii.  2,  3,  4. 

In  the  former  part  of  this  delightful  and  valuable 
epistle,  the  Apostle  has  been  reminding  the  Colossians 
of  their  privileges,  and  the  covenant  blessings  which 
they  inherited  in  Christ.  He  tells  them  that  they  have 
entered  upon  a  new  dispensation,  that  the  system  of 
types  and  shadows  has  accomplished  its  purpose,  and 
has  been  fulfilled,  that  their  circumcision  was  of  the 
heart,  in  the  spirit,  and  not  in  the  letter,  and  that  they 
were  “  complete  in  Christ,  who  is  the  head  of  all  prin¬ 
cipality  and  power.”  Lest,  however,  by  these  con¬ 
siderations,  any  of  them  should  be  exalted  above 
measure,  he  urges  them  that  they  live  unto  God,  tells 
them  that,  although  freed  from  the  yoke  of  ceremonial 
observance,  their  obligation  to  obey  was  as  strict  and  as 
binding  as  ever,  and  though  no  longer  impelled  by 
slavish  and  spiritless  fear,  the  love  of  Christ  should  con 

227 


228  THE  chkistian’s  death, 

strain  them  to  a  closer  evangelical  obedience.  There  is 
no  antinomianism,  brethren,  in  the  Gospel ;  it  tells  ns 
that  faith  without  works  is  dead  ;  that  however  largely 
it  may  talk  about  its  knowledge  of  the  better  land, 
however  it  may  imagine  itself  to  be  exalted  through  the 
abundance  of  its  revelations,  if  it  do  not  work  by  love 
and  purity  of  heart,  if  it  do  not  exert  a  transforming 
influence  upon  the  character  and  life,  there  is  no  sound¬ 
ness  in  it,  and  it  is  but  a  specious  and  delusive  mim- 
ickry  of  the  faith  which  saves.  The  Apostle,  in  impress¬ 
ing  this  fact  upon  their  minds,  takes  hallowed  ground  ; 
lie  seems  to  remind  them  of  their  privileges,  that  he 
may  the  more  effectually  insist  upon  their  duty ;  and 
for  the  grandeur  of  their  blessings,  he  urges  tlieir  entire 
consecration  to  God.  “If  ye  then  be  risen  with  Christ,” 
if  ye  be  merged  from  the  obscurity  of  the  old  dispen¬ 
sation  unto  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the  new,  if  ye 
have  power  over  sin,  if,  by  virtue  of  communion  with 
your  Saviour,  ye  are  justified  by  faith,  sanctified  by  the 
Spirit,  and  travelling  to  heaven,  “seek  those  things  that 
are  above be  at  home  in  heaven  ;  let  your  desires 
cluster  there,  and  let  there  be  a  gathering  of  your  hopes 
around  the  throne  ;  let  your  affections  fasten  upon  that 
radiant  seat  “  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of 
God.”  lie  then  repeats  the  exhortation,  and  assigns 
reasons  for  its  performance,  in  the  language  of  the  text, 
“  Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  not  on  things  on 
the  earth.  For  ye  are  dead,  and  your  life  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God.  When  Christ,  who  is  our  life,  shall 


229 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 

appear,  then  shall  ye  also  appear  with  him  in 
glory.” 

There  are  four  things  presented  to  us  in  these  words : 
the  Christian’s  death,  the  Christian’s  life,  the  Christian’s 
prospects,  and  the  Christian’s  duty ;  an  ineffable  blend¬ 
ing  „of  precept  and  promise,  upon  which,  for  a  few 
moments,  it  may  profit  us  to  dwell. 

I.  The  first  thing  that  strikes  us,  is  the  Christian’s 
death.  “For,”  says  the  Apostle,  “ye  are  dead.”  Is 
not  this  somewhat  of  a  paradox  ?  Does  not  Christ  say 
expressly,  that  he  came  not  to  destroy  men’s  lives,  but 
to  save  them?  "Was  it  not  one  of  the  purposes  of  his 
coming,  that  we  might  have  life,  and  that  we  might 
have  it  more  abundantly?  Was  it  not  one  of  the 
designs  of  his  incarnation,  that  from  the  fountain  of  his 
own  underived  existence,  he  might  replenish  the  veins 
of  man,  even  to  life  everlasting  ?  And  yet,  when  we 
enter  upon  his  service,  the  very  first  thing  we  are  told 
to  do  is  to  die.  Who  shall  solve  the  enigma  ?  Only 
the  Scripture,  by  becoming,  as  it  always  does,  the 
authorized  and  satisfactory  interpreter  of  itself.  In  St. 
Paul’s  Epistle  to  Timothy,  you  find  this  remarkable  ex¬ 
pression  :  “  She  that  liveth  in  pleasure  is  dead  while 
she  liveth.”  You  have  no  difficulty  in  understanding 
that  to  mean  dead  in  spiritual  things.  In  that  pleasure- 
loving  heart  there  beats  no  pulse  for  God  ;  in  that 
spirit,  around  which  the  world  has  flung  the  spells  of 
its  witchery,  there  is  no  desire  for  heaven ;  the 
pleasures  of  sense  engross  it,  and,  although  compassed 


230  the  Christian’s  death, 

by  the  realities  of  the  other  world,  its  very  existence  is 
treated  as  a  question  or  a  fable.  Now,  just  the  reverse 
of  this,  morally  considered,  will  explain  to  ns  the  state 
of  the  Christian  when  the  Apostle  tells  ns  he  is  dead. 
The  fact  is,  that  between  the  flesh  and  the  spirit,  there 
is  a  bitter  and  irreconcilable  enmity;  the  one  cannot 
exist  in  the  presence  and  by  the  side  of  the  other. 
That  which  has  been  garnished  for  the  temple  of  the 
Lord,  must  not  be  profaned  by  an  idol.  Distinct  and 
solemn,  and  authoritative  is  the  inspired  announcement, 
“Whosoever  will  be  the  friend  of  the  world  is  the 
enemy  of  God.”  Impiety  has  entered  into  an  unholy 
compact  to  amalgamate  these  two,  to  adjust  their 
claims,  to  give  them  a  division  of  service ;  but  it  is  a 
covenant  with  death — it  shall  be  disannulled ;  it  is  an 
agreement  with  hell — it  shall  not  stand.  Religion 
peals  out  her  refusal  of  such  reluctant  allegiance,  lays 
the  grasp  of  her  claim  upon  the  entire  nation,  and  tells 
us  in  tones  of  power,  “  Ye  can  not  serve  God  and  mam¬ 
mon.”  The  Christian,  then,  who  is  a  Christian  indeed, 
regards  the  world  as  if  it  were  not,  and  continually 
endeavors  to  exemplify  that  his  life  and  conversation 
are  in  heaven.  His  differences  from  the  world  may  not, 
indeed,  be  apparent  to  a  superficial  observer ;  he  goes 
to  and  fro  among  the  people  like  other  men  ;  he  takes 
an  interest  in  the  ever-shifting  concerns  that  are  passing 
in  the  world  around  him  ;  and  yet  he  is  dead  to  the 
world  all  the  while.  How  are  you  to  find  it  out  ?  Try 
him  with  some  question  of  difficulty;  set  his  duty 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


231 


before  him,  and  let  that  duty  be  painful,  and  let  it 
involve  some  considerable  deprivation  of  gain  or  of 
pleasure ;  and  with  self-sacrificing  devotion,  he  will 
obey  the  truth,  and  glory  in  the  trial.  Mark  him  in  the 
midst  of  circumstances  of  discouragement  and  woe, 
when  waters  of  a  full  cup  are  wrung  out  to  him ;  he  is 
sustained  by  an  energy  of  which  the  world  wotteth  not, 
nerved  with  a  principle  to  which  it  is  an  utter  stranger ; 
richer  blood  animates  him,  loftier  inspirations  sparkle 
from  his  eye,  and  though  surrounded  by  the  things  of 
sense,  and  of  course  in  some  sort  influenced  by  their 
impressions  upon  him,  he  tells  you  plainly  that  he  seeks 
a  country,  nay,  that  he  has  already  “  risen  with  Christ,” 
and  that  he  lives  in  the  land  which  is  at  once  his 
treasury  and  his  home. 

We  may  illustrate  the  Apostle’s  meaning  again  by  a 
reference  to  another  passage  ;  that  in  which  he  speaks 
of  “  always  bearing  about  in  the  body  the  dying  of  the 
Lord  Jesus.”  The  primary  reference  of  the  Apostle  is  to 
the  sufferings  which  himself  and  his  compatriots  were 
called  upon  to  undergo  in  attestation  of  the  resurrection 
of  Christ.  The  enemies  of  the  cross,  those  who  were 
doing  their  utmost  to  destroy  Christianity,  were  per¬ 
plexed  and  baffled  by  the  disappearance  of  the  Saviour 
from  the  tomb  ;  and  to  account  for  the  mystery,  they 
charged  the  apostles  with  the  felony  of  their  master’s 
body.  Thus  two  statements  were  put  forth  directly 
opposite  in  character  and  tendency ;  the  rulers  said  the 
body  was  stolen  ;  the  apostles  said  the  body  had  risen. 


232 


the  Christian’s  death, 


The  latter  could  not  be  disproved  ;  but  so  intense  was 
their  hostility  against  the  bfazarcne,  that  persecution 
and  power  were  made  use  of — compendious,  but, 
happily  in  this  case,  ineffectual  arguments — to  silence 
the  proclaimers  of  the  truth.  The  Apostle  refers  to  this 
in  the  words  that  are  now  before  us,  and  tells  them  in 
effect  that  though  famine  might  draw  the  fire  from  his 
eye,  and  long-continued  suffering  might  repress  and 
undermine  the  buoyancy  of  his  spirit,  and  though  his 
flesh  might  creep  and  quail  beneath  the  pressure  of 
these  agonies,  and  though  in  all  these  ways  he  might 
bear  about  in  the  body  the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
yet,  by  the  patience  with  which  those  sufferings  were 
borne,  by  the  consolations  which  abounded  in  the 
midst  of  them,  nay,  by  the  fact  of  the  sufferings  them¬ 
selves,  he  could  point  to  his  marred  and  shattered  body, 
and  say  that  not  the  dying  only,  but  the  life,  the  im¬ 
mortal  life  of  Jesus  was  every  moment  manifested  there. 
But  we  are  not  disposed  to  limit  this  bearing  about  in 
the  body  the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus  to  apostolic  times. 
It  is  not  a  thing  of  one  generation  merely.  We  are  not 
now  called  upon,  as  were  our  fathers,  to  do  it  in  the  fur¬ 
nace  ;  the  fires  of  outward  persecution  have  well-nigh 
forgotten  to  burn  ;  but  it  has  an  existence  still  as  actual 
and  as  constant  as  in  days  of  yore.  The  Christian 
does  so  every  moment  of  his  life,  because  every 
moment  of  his  life  he  exercises  faith  in  Christ.  And 
his  faith  is  not  only  active  and  appropriating,  but 
realizing  in  its  tendency:  it  not  only  unfolds  to  him 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


233 


tlie  riches  and  confers  on  him  the  blessings  of  the 
mighty  offering ;  it  paints  it  as  a  living  vision  before 
the  eye  of  his  mind.  Darting  back  through  two 
thousand  years  of  past  time,  it  places  him  in  the  midst 
of  the  crowd  gathered  at  the  crucifixion,  aye,  at  the  very 
foot  of  the  cross.  He  sees  the  victim  ;  there  is  no  delu¬ 
sion  in  the  matter ;  he  walks  along  the  thronged  and 
bustling  streets  ;  men  cross  his  path  in  haste,  speeding 
away,  the  one  to  his  farm  and  the  other  to  his  mer¬ 
chandise;  he  converses  with  a  thousand  beings,  he 
transacts  a  thousand  things;  but  that  scene  is  ever 
before  him  ;  as  the  magnet  of  his  highest  attractions, 
his  eye  always  trembles  to  the  cross,  and  in  the  midst 
of  evidence  fresher  every  moment  he  joins  in  the  cen¬ 
turion  language,  his  glad  language  too,  “Truly  this  man 
was  the  Son  of  God.”  With  such  a  spectacle  as  that 
before  him,  how  can  he  live  unto  the  world  ?  With  the 
glances  of  so  kind  an  eye  constantly  beaming  upon  him, 
how  can  his  desires  be  on  earth?  Heaven  claims  him, 
for  his  treasure  and  his  heart  are  there.  Hay,  so 
entirelv  does  this  death  unto  sin — for  I  suppose  you 

*J 

have  found  out  that  is  what  we  mean — take  possession 
of  the  Christian,  that,  as  the  Apostle  in  another  place 
expresses  it,  he  is  “  crucified  with  Christ.”  He  is  not 
only  an  anxious  spectator,  he  is  something  more,  he  is  a 
living  sacrifice.  He  has  his  cross.  As  Christ  died  for 
sin,  he  dies  to  sin,  and  they  both  conquer  by  dying. 
As  by  the  dying  of  the  Saviour,  the  power  of  death  was 
destroyed,  and  the  world  was  freed  from  his  dominion, 


234 


the  Christian’s  death, 


so  by  the  dying  of  the  sinner,  the  principle  of  evil  is 
dethroned,  the  new  heart  is  gained,  and  the  man 
becomes  “  a  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus.” 

This  is  what  we  imagine  the  Apostle  to  mean  when  he 
says  of  Christians,  “Ye  are  dead;”  and  as  it  is  only 
when  we  have  thus  died  that  we  can  be  truly  said  to 
live,  allow  us  to  ask  you  if  you  are  thus  dead  unto  sin 
and  alive  unto  God  ?  Have  you  realized  this  death 
unto  sin,  or  this  birth  unto  righteousness  ?  Has  this 
deep,  abiding  change  passed  upon  you?  Or  are  you 
still  living  to  the  world,  the  circle  of  this  life  your 
bounded  prospect,  and  its  fleeting  enjoyments  your  only 
reward  ?  Examine  yourselves,  brethren,  and  may  the 
Spirit  help  you  to  a  right  decision  ! 

II.  W e  pass  upward  from  the  truth  of  death  to  the 
truth  of  life.  “For  ye  are  dead,”  says  the  Apostle, 
“and  your  life” — a  life  that  you  have  notwithstanding 
that  seeming  death — “  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.”  In 
the  creation  of  God  there  seems  to  be  nothing  absolute 
or  final ;  everything  seems  rather  in  a  rudimentary 
state — a  state  in  which  it  is  susceptive  of  increase, 
development,  expansion,  improvement.  It  is  so  in 
nature.  The  seed  is  cast  into  the  earth ;  years  elapse 
before  there  are  the  strength  and  shadow  of  the  tree. 
The  harvest  waves  not  in  its  luxuriant  beauty  at  once ; 

“  there  is  first  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  after  that  the  full 

» 

corn  in  the  ear.”  And  what  is  thus  possible  in  the  ordi¬ 
nary  processes  of  nature  is  capable  of  spiritual  analogies. 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


235 


Man  ends  not  in  liis  present  condition.  The  very  im¬ 
perfections  with  which  it  is  fraught,  shadow  forth  a 
mightier  heing.  It  would  seem  as  if  glimpses  of  this 
great  truth  shot  across  the  minds  ot  the  sages  of  ancient 
Greece  and  Eome.  It  is  interesting  to  watch  their 
minds  in  their  various  and  continual  operations,  espe¬ 
cially  when,  as  it  were,  brought  out  of  themselves,  to 
see  them  struggling  with  some  great  principle  just  glow¬ 
ing  upon  them  from  the  darkness  of  previous  thought, 
to  see  them  catching  occasional  glimpses  of  truth  in  the 
distance,  and  pressing  forward,  if  haply  they  might 
comprehend  it  fully.  It  must  have  been  in  one  of  those 
very  ecstasies  that  the  idea  of  immortality  first  dawned 
upon  them  ;  for,  after  all,  crude  and  imperfect  as  their 
notions  were,  they  must  be  regarded  rather  as  conjec¬ 
ture  than  opinion.  It  was  reserved  for  Christianity,  by 
her  complete  revelations,  to  bring  life  and  immortality 
to  light,  to  unfold  this  master-purpose  of  the  Eternal 
Mind,  and  to  give  permanence  and  form  to  her  impres¬ 
sions  of  the  life  that  dies  not.  You  remember  that  the 
inspired  writers,  when  speaking  about  the  present  state 
of  being,  scarcely  dignify  it  with  the  name  of  life,  com¬ 
pared  with  the  life  to  be  expected;  but  they  tell  us 
there  is  provided  for  us,  and  awaiting  us,  a  life  worthy 
of  our  highest  approbation,  and  of  our  most  cordial  en¬ 
deavor  ;  a  life  solid,  constant,  and  eternal.  This  is  the 
promise  “  which  he  hath  promised  us  ” — as  if  there  were 
no  other,  as  if  all  others  were  wrapped  up  in  that  great 


236 


the  Christian’s  death, 

benediction — “  this  is  the  promise  which  he  hath  pro¬ 
mised  ns,  even  eternal  life ;”  and  of  this  life  they  tell  ns 
that  it  is  “  hid  with  Christ  in  God.” 

It  is  hidden,  in  the  first  place,  in  the  sense  of  secrecy ; 
it  is  concealed,  partially  developed ;  we  do  not  know 
much  about  it.  Revelation  has  not  been  minute  in  her 
discoveries  of  the  better  land.  Enough  lias  been  re¬ 
vealed  to  confirm  our  confidence  and  to  exalt  our  faith. 
The  outlines  of  the  purpose  are  sketched  out  before  us, 
but  the  details  are  withheld.  Hence,  of  the  life  to  come 
the  Apostle  tells  us  that  “we  know  in  part,  we  see 
as  through  a  glass  darkly through  a  piece  of  smoked 
glass  like  that  through  which  we  look  at  an  eclipse  of 
the  sun  ;  our  senses  can  give  us  no  information  concern¬ 
ing  it,  for  it  is  beyond  their  province ;  reason  cannot 
find  it  out,  for  it  baffles  her  proudest  endeavors.  We 
may  go  to  the  depth  in  search  of  this  wisdom :  “  the 
depth  saith,  It  is  not  in  me.”  Imagination  may  plume 
her  finest  pinion,  and  revel  in  the  ideal  magnificence 
she  can  bring  into  being ;  she  may  so  exalt  and  amplify 
the  images  of  the  life  that  is,  as  to  picture  forth  the  life 
that  will  be ;  it  is  a  hidden  life  still,  for  it  hath  not  en¬ 
tered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive  it;  shadows 
dense  and  impervious  hang  on  its  approach  ;  clouds  and 
darkness  are  round  about  its  throne.  And  we  are 
equally  destitute  of  information  from  experience.  Hone 
of  those  white-robed  companies,  who  have  enjoyed  this 
life  from  the  beginning,  have  been  commissioned  to 
explain  to  us  its  truths ;  none  of  those  now  venerable 


I 


LIFE,  PEOSPECTS,  AND  DUTY- 


237 


ones,  who  have  travelled  the  road,  who  have  experienced 
the  change,  have  returned ;  they  come  not  full  fraught 
with  the  tidings  of  eternity  to  tell  to  the  heedful  multi¬ 
tudes  tales  from  beyond  the  grave.  Those  dark  and 
silent  chambers  effectually  cut  off  all  communication 
between  the  mortal  and  the  changed.  We  may  interro¬ 
gate  the  spirits  of  the  departed,  but  there  is  no  voice, 
not  even  the  echo  of  our  own.  We  do  not  complain  of 
this  secrecy,  because  we  believe  it  to  be  a  secrecy  of 
mercy.  The  eye  of  the  mind,  like  the  eye  of  the  body, 
was  dazzled  with  excess  of  light ;  and  if  the  full  reali¬ 
ties  of  the  life  to  come  were  to  burst  upon  us,  we  should 
be  dazzled  into  blindness ;  there  would  be  a  wreck  of 
reason,  and  the  balance  of  the  mind’s  powers  would  be 
irrecoverably  gone.  Moreover,  we  walk  by  faith,  not 
by  sight,  and  a  fuller  revelation  would  neutralize  some 
of  the  most  efficient  means  for  the  preservation  of 
spiritual  life,  and  bring  anarchy  and  discord  into  the 
beautiful  arrangements  of  God.  Thus  is  this  hiding 
beneficial  to  believers.  Yes,  and  I  will  go  further  than 
that:  to  the  sinner  it  is  a  secrecy  of  mercy.  Wonder 
not  at  that.  Imagine  not  that  if  this  vacant  area  could 
be  filled  to-day  with  a  spirit  of  perdition,  with  the 
thunder  scar  of  the  Eternal  on  his  brow,  and  his  heart 
writhing  under  the  blasted  immortality  of  hell,  then 
surely  if  he  could  tell  the  secrets  of  his  prison-house 
those  who  are  now  among  the  impenitent  would  be 
affrighted,  and  repent  and  turn.  “I  tell  you  nay,  foi 
if  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets  neither  would 


238  the  Christian’s  death, 

they  bo  persuaded  though  one  were  to  rise  from  the 
dead.” 

Just  another  thought  here  on  this  head.  Especially 
is  this  life  hidden  in  the  sense  of  secrecy,  in  the  hour 
and  the  article  of  death.  An  awful  change  passes  upon 
one  we  love,  and  who  has  loved  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
He  looks  pale  and  motionless ;  we  see  not  the  glances 
of  his  eye,  we  hear  not  the  music  of  his  voice,  and  as  he 
lies  stretched  breathless  in  his  slumbers,  it  is  very  diffi¬ 
cult  to  believe  that  he  is  not  dead.  “  But  he  is  not  dead, 
but  sleepeth.”  Can  you  credit  it,  O  ye  mourners  ?  Is 
there  no  chord  in  your  stricken  hearts,  ye  bereaved 
ones,  that  trembles  responsive  to  the  tone,  “  he  is  not 
dead,  but  sleepeth  ?”  His  life  is  with  him  yet  as  warm, 
and  as  young,  and  as  energetic  as  in  days  gone  by ;  only 
it  is  hidden  “  with  Christ  in  God.”  We  mourn  you  not, 
ye  departed  ones  that  have  died  in  the  faith,  for  ye  have 
entered  into  life.  Natural  affection  bids  us  weep,  and 
give  your  tombs  the  tribute  of  a  tear,  but  we  dare  not 
recall  you.  Ye  live ;  we  are  the  dying  ones ;  ye  live  in 
the  smile  and  blessing  of  God.  Our  life  is  “  hid  with 
Christ  in  God.” 

And  then  it  is  hidden,  secondly,  not  only  in  the 
sense  of  secrecy,  but  in  the  sense  of  security,  laid  up, 
treasured  up,  kept  safely  by  the  power  of  Christ.  The 
great  idea  seems  to  be  this :  the  enemy  of  God,  a  lion 
broken  loose,  is  going  round  the  universe  in  search  of 
the  Christian’s  life,  that  he  may  undermine  and  destroy 
it ;  but  he  cannot  find  it ;  God  has  hidden  it ;  it  is  hid- 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


239 


den  with  Christ  in  God.  It  is  a  very  uncertain  and 
precarious  tenure  upon  which  we  hold  all  our  posses 
sions  here  ;  everything  connected  with  the  present  life 
is  fleeting ;  plans  formed  in  oversight  and  executed  in 
wisdom  are,  by  adverse  circumstances,  rendered  abor¬ 
tive  and  fruitless ;  gourds  grow  for  our  shade,  and  we 
sit  under  them  with  delight ;  the  mildew  comes,  and 
they  are  withered ;  friends  twine  themselves  around 
our  affections,  and  as  we  come  to  know  them  well  and 
love  them,  they  are  sure  to  die ;  and  upon  crumbling 
arch,  and  ruined  wall,  and  battlemented  height,  and 
cheeks  all  pale  that  but  awhile  ago  blushed  at  the 
praise  of  their  own  loveliness,  old  dime  has  graven  in 
the  word  of  the  preacher,  that  there  is  nothing  un¬ 
changeable  in  man  except  his  tendency  to  change. 
But  it  is  a  characteristic  of  the  future  life,  that  it  is 
that  which  abideth  ;  the  lapse  of  time  affects  not  those 
who  live  eternally ;  theirs  is  immortal  youth ;  no  ene¬ 
my,  however  organized  and  mighty,  can  avail  to  de¬ 
prive  them  of  it;  no  opposition,  however  subtile  and 
powerful,  can  wrest  it  from  him  with  whom  it  is  secure. 
Where  is  it  hidden  %  With  Christ ;  the  safest  place  in 
the  universe,  surely,  for  anything  belonging  to  Christ’s 
people.  Where  he  is,  in  that  land  irradiated  with  his 
presence,  and  brightening  under  the  sunshine  of  his 
love  ;  on  that  mountain  whose  sacred  inclosure  God  s 
glory  pavilions,  and  within  which  there  shall  in  nowise 
enter  anything  that  shall  hurt  or  destroy.  Where  is 
this  hidden  ?  In  God,  in  the  great  heart  of  God,  who 


240  THE  chkistian’s  death, 

is  never  faithless  to  his  promise,  and  whose  perfections 
are  pledged  to  confer  it  upon  persevering  believers. 
Oh,  we  will  not  fear.  Unbelief  may  suggest  to  us  its 
thoughts  of  suspicion  and  warning ;  fear  may  shrink 
back  appalled  from  a  way  so  untried  and  dangerous ; 
passion  may  stir  our  unruly  elements  in  our  too  carnal 
minds,  and  presumptuously  fight  against  our  faith ;  our 
ancient  enemy  may  do  his  best  to  aggravate  into  in¬ 
tenser  force  the  giant  war ;  but  we  will  not  fear ;  our 
life  shall  be  given  to  us,  for  it  is  hidden  wfith  Christ  in 
God.  Even  now,  in  the  prospect,  we  feel  a  joy  of 
which  the  world  wotteth  not — heart-warm,  fervent, 
entrancing,  a  joy  which  wTe  may  suffer  to  roam  un¬ 
checked  in  its  raptures  because  it  is  based  upon  the 
truth  divine. 

III.  We  pass  on,  thirdly,  to  the  Christian’s  prospects. 
u  When  Christ,  who  is  our  life,  shall  appear,  then  shall 
ye  also  appear  with  him  in  glory.” 

These  words  imply  two  things  :  first,  enjoyment;  and 
secondly,  manifestation. 

They  imply,  first,  enjoyment.  We  observed  before, 
that  revelation  has  not  been  minute  in  her  discoveries 
of  the  better  land  ;  we  have  the  outlines  of  the  purpose 
before  us,  but  the  details  are  withheld  ;  and  yet  enough 
is  revealed  not  merely  to  fulfill,  but  to  exalt  our  highest 
hopes.  The  similitudes  under  which  the  recompense  is 
presented  in  Scripture  cannot  fail  to  fill  us  with  antici¬ 
pations  of  the  most  delightful  kind.  It  is  brought  be¬ 
fore  us,  you  remember,  as  an  inheritance,  incorruptible 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


241 


and  undefiled ;  as  a  paradise  ever  vernal  and  blooming  • 
and,  best  of  all,  amid  those  trees  of  life  there  lurks  no 
serpent  to  destroy;  as  a  country  through  whose  vast 
region  we  shall  traverse  with  untired  footsteps,  and 
every  fresh  revelation  of  beauty  will  augment  our 
knowledge,  and  holiness,  and  joy;  as  a  city  whose 
every  gate  is  of  jewelry,  whose  every  street  is  a  sun- 
track,  whose  wall  is  an  immortal  bulwark,  and  whose 
ever-spreading  splendor  is  the  glory  of  the  Lord  ;  as  a 
temple  through  which  gusts  of  praise  are  perpetually 
sweeping  the  anthems  of  undying  hosannas  ;  above  all, 
as  our  Father’s  house  where  Christ  is,  where  our  elder 
brother  is,  making  the  house  ready  for  the  younger 
ones,  where  all  we  love  is  clustered,  where  the  out- 
flowings  of  parental  affection  thrill  and  gladden,  and 
where  the  mind  is  spell-bound,  for  aye,  amid  the  sweet 
sorceries  of  an  everlasting  home.  Is  there  no  enjoy¬ 
ment  in  images  like  these  ?  Does  not  the  very  thought 
of  them  make  the  fleet  blood  rush  the  fleeter  through 
the  veins  ?  And  yet  these  and  far  more  are  the  pros¬ 
pects  of  the  Christian  :  knowledge  without  the  shadow 
of  an  error,  and  increasing  throughout  eternity ;  friend¬ 
ship  that  never  unclasps  its  hand,  or  relaxes  from  its 
embraces ;  holiness  without  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such 
thing ;  the  presence  of  God  in  beatific  and  imperishable 
vision,  combine  to  make  him  happy  each  moment,  and 
to  make  him  happy  forever. 

Then  these  words  imply  manifestation  as  well  as 
enjoyment.  “  When  Christ,  who  is  our  life,  shall 

11 


242  the  Christian’s  death, 

appear,  then  shall  ye  also  appear  with  him  in  glory.” 
The  world  says :  “  You  talk  about  your  life  being  hid¬ 
den  ;  the  fact  is,  it  is  lost ;  it  is  only  a  gloss  of  yours  to 
say  it  is  hidden.”  But  it  is  not  lost,  it  is  only  hidden  ; 
and  when  Christ,  who  has  it,  shall  appear,  “  then  shall 
ye  also  appear,”  to  the  discomfiture  of  scoffers  and  to 
the  admiration  of  all  them  that  believe  ;  “  then  shall  ye 
also  appear  with  him  in  glory.  The  worldling  looks  at 
Christians  now,  and,  in  some  of  his  reflective  moods,  he 
finds  a  great  difference  between  them,  but  it  is  a  diffe¬ 
rence  he  can  hardly  understand.  With  his  usual  short¬ 
sightedness,  and  with  his  usual  self-complacency,  he 
imagines  the  advantage  to  be  altogether  upon  his  own 
side;  he  looks  at  the  outside  of  the  man,  and  judges 
foolish,  judgment.  Perhaps  he  glances  at  his  garments, 
and  they  are  tattered,  it  may  be,  and  homely,  and  he 
turns  away  with  affected  disdain.  Ah !  he  knows  not 
that  beneath  that  beggar’s  robe  there  throbs  a  prince’s 
soul.  Wait  a  while;  bide  your  time;  stop  until  the 
manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God.  With  what  different 
feelings  will  earth’s  despised  ones  be  regarded  at  the 
bar  of  judgment  and  before  the  throne  divine!  IIow 
will  they  appear  when  they  are  confessed,  recognized, 
honored,  in  the  day  when  he  is  ashamed  of  the  wicked, 
and  when  the  hell  beneath  and  the  hell  within  will 
make  them  ashamed  of  themselves  ?  “  Beloved,”  says 

the  rejoicing  Apostle,  “  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God;” 
that  is  something,  that  is  no  mean  gift,  that  is  no  small 
bestowment,  to  have  that  in  hand ;  “  now  are  we  the 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


243 


sons  of  God.”  “  Salvation,”  it  is  as  if  the  Apostle  had 
said,  “  is  a  small  thing,  a  thing  unworthy  of  God ;”  it  is 
a  small  thing  to  take  a  captive  out  of  a  dungeon,  and 
turn  him  loose  upon  the  cold  world’s  cruel  scorn  ;  it  is 
a  grand  thing  to  take  a  captive  out  of  a  dungeon,  and 
set  him  on  a  throne ;  and  that  is  done  with  all  those 
who  believe  on  Jesus:  being  justified  by  faith,  they 
have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  J esus  Christ. 
“  And  if  children  ”  (for  they  have  received  the  adop¬ 
tion  of  sons),  “  then  heirs,  heirs  of  God,  and  joint-heirs 
with  Christ.”  Oh !  salvation  is  not  to  be  named  in  con¬ 
nection  with  the  grand,  the  august,  the  stately  splendor, 
the  sonship,  which  is  given  unto  those  who  put  their 
trust  in  Christ.  “Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of 
God ;  but  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be ;”  so 
transcendent,  so  surpassing  is  the  recompense,  that  we 
cannot  conceive  it  now ;  “  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what 
we  shall  be ;”  it  doth  not  yet  appear  even  to  ourselves ; 
we  shall  be  as  much  astonished  at  the  splendor  of  the 
recompense  as  any  one  beside.  Oh  !  when  we  are 
launched  into  the  boundless,  when  the  attentive  ear 
catches  the  first  tones  of  heaven’s  melody,  when  there 
burst  upon  the  dazzled  eye  the  earliest  glimpse  of 
beatific  vision,  how  shall  we  be  ready  almost  to  doubt 
our  own  identity — “  Is  this  I  ?  It  cannot  be  the  same. 
Is  this  the  soul  that  was  racked  with  anxiety  and 
dimmed  with  prejudice,  and  stained  with  sin  ?  Is  this 
the  soul  whose  every  passion  was  its  tempter,  and  that 
was  harassed  with  an  all-absorbing  fear  of  never  reach- 


244  the  Christian’s  death, 

ing  heaven  ?  Why,  not  an  enemy  molests  it  now  ;  not 
a  throb  shoots  across  it  now  ;  those  waters  that  used  to 
look  so  angry  and  so  boisterous,  how  peacefully  they 
ripple  upon  the  everlasting  shore  ;  and  this  body,  once 
so  frail  and  so  mortal,  is  it,  can  it  be,  the  same  ?  Why, 
the  eye  dims  not  now;  the  cheek  is  never  blanched 
with  sudden  pain ;  the  fingers  are  not  awkward  now ; 
but,  without  a  teacher,  they  strike  the  harp  of  gold,  and 
transmit  along  the  echoes  of  eternity  the  song  of  Moses 
and  the  Lamb.  This  is  conjecture,  yon  say;  not,  we 
hope,  unwarranted ;  but  even  now,  dark  as  our  glimpse 
is,  unworthy  as  our  conceptions  are  of  the  promised 
recompense,  there  is  enough  to  exalt  us  into  the  poet’s 
ecstasy,  when,  throned  upon  his  own  privilege,  he 
sings : 

“  On  all  the  kings  of  earth 
With  pity  we  look  down  ; 

And  claim,  in  virtue  of  our  birth, 

A  never-fading  crown.” 

FY  And  now,  then,  you  are  ready  for  the  duty,  I 
am  sure.  “  For  your  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God. 
When  Christ,  who  is  our  life,  shall  appear,  then  shall 
ye  also  appear  with  him  in  glory.”  “  Set  your  affection 
on  things  above.”  Oh,  how  solemnly  it  comes,  with  all 
this  exceeding  weight  of  privilege  to  back  it!  It 
silences  the  question  urged,  it  overrides  gainsay ;  it  is 
emphatic  and  solemn,  and  to  the  Christian  resistless. 
“Set  your  affections  on  things  above.”  For  a  Christian 
to  be  absorbed  in  the  gainfulness  pf  the  world,  or  fasci- 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


24d 


nated  by  its  pleasures,  is  at  once  a  grievous  infatuation 
and  a  sin.  It  is  as  if  a  prince  of  high  estate  and  regal 
lineaere  were  to  demean  himself  in  the  haunts  of  beg- 
gars,  to  the  loss  of  dignity  and  imperilling  the  honor  of 
his  crown.  What  have  you,  the  blood-royal  of  heaven, 
to  do  with  this  vain  and  fleeting  show  ?  Arise,  depart ; 
this  is  not  your  rest;  it  is  polluted.  And  yet  how 
many  of  you  have  need  of  the  exhortation  this  morning, 
“  Set  your  affections  on  things  above  ?”  Have  you  not 
— now  let  the  spirit  of  searching  come  unto  you — have 
you  not,  by  your  cupidity,  avarice,  and  huckstering  lust 
of  gain,  distanced  the  world’s  devotees  in  what  they 
had  been  accustomed  to  consider  their  own  peculiar 
walk?  Have  you  not  trodden  so  near  the  line  of 
demarcation  between  professor  and  profane,  that  you 
have  almost  trodden  on  it,  and  almost  trodden  it  out  ? 
Have  you  not,  strangely  enamored  of  visions  of  distant 
joy,  postponed  as  uninffuential  and  unworthy,  the  joy 
that  abideth,  or,  like  the  man  in  the  allegory,  raked  up 
with  a  perseverance  that  in  aught  else  might  have  been 
laudable,  the  straws  beneath  your  feet,  while  above 
your  head  there  glittered  the  diadem  of  glory  ?  Oh, 
awake !  arise !  this  is  not  your  rest ;  it  is  polluted. 
u  Set  your  affections  on  things  above,  and  not  on  things 
on  the  earth.”  If  riches  be  your  possession,  be  thank¬ 
ful  for  them ;  do  all  the  good  with  them  you  can ;  if 
friends  make  music  in  your  dwelling,  regard  them  as 
rose-leaves  scattered  upon  life,  and  by  and  by  to  drop 
from  life  away.  Seek  for  bags  that  wax  not  old,  friends 


246 


the  Christian’s  death, 

that  neither  weep  nor  change  in  the  unintermitting 
reunions  of  heaven’s  own  glory. 

How  does  this  prospect  of  glory  breathe  encourage¬ 
ment  to  the  soul  in  the  sad  season  of  bereavement ! 
“He  that  believetli  in  Jesus” — this  is  the  promise — 
“  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live,  and  whosoever 
liveth  and  believeth  on  Jesus  shall  never  die.”  Still 
sounds  that  great  utterance  of  the  Master  running  along 
the  whole  line  of  being,  heard  over  the  graves  of  the 
loved,  amid  rustling  leaf  and  fading  flower,  and  wither¬ 
ing  grass,  and  dying  man,  “  He  that  liveth  and  believeth 
in  Jesus  shall  never  die.”  Orphan,  believest  thou  this? 
Widow,  from  whom  the  desire  of  thine  eyes  has  been 
taken  away  with  a  stroke,  believest  thou  this?  Ah! 
some  of  us  have  got  friends  safe-housed  above  the 
regions  of  the  shadow  and  the  storm,  but  we  would  not 
bring  them  back  again.  We  would  sing  for  them  the 
hallowed  ptean : 

“  By  the  bright  waters  now  thy  lot  is  cast, 

Joy  for  thee !  happy  friend  ;  thy  bark  hath  passed 
The  rough  sea’s  foam. 

Now  the  long  yearnings  of  thy  soul  are  stilled, 

Ilome,  home ! 

Thy  peace  is  won,  thy  heart  is  filled  ! 

Thou  art  gone  home.” 

But  we  can  listen  to  the  voice  which  they  And  time  to 
whisper  to  us  in  some  of  the  rests  of  the  music  :  “  Be  ye 
therefore  followers  of  us  who  now,  through  faith  and 
patience,  are  inheriting  the  promises.” 


LIFE,  PROSPECTS,  AND  DUTY. 


247 


Some  of  you  liave  not  got,  perhaps,  to  the  realization 
of  this  promise  yet.  There  is  a  misgiving  within ;  there 
is  a  yet  unsettled  controversy  between  your  Maker  and 
yourself.  You  have  not  seen  Jesus  5  you  have  not 
heard  the  pardoning  voice  or  felt  the  power  of  the  re¬ 
conciling  plan.  Oh,  come  to  Christ.  To-day  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  Christ  is  here,  waiting  to  take  of  the  precious 
things  of  Christ,  and  to  show  them  unto  you;  waiting 
this  morning  to  do  honor  to  Jesus.  Hallow  the  conse¬ 
cration  of  this  house  by  the  consecration  of  the  living 
temple  of  your  hearts.  God  is  no  longer  the  unknown 
God,  to  he  viewed  with  servile  apprehension,  or  fol¬ 
lowed  with  slavish  dread ;  he  is  God  in  Christ,  recon¬ 
ciling  the  world  unto  himself.  Redemption  is  no  longer 
a  theorem  to  he  demonstrated,  a  problem  to  he  solved, 
a  riddle  to  be  guessed  by  the  wayward  and  the  wander¬ 
ing  ;  it  is  the  great  fact  of  the  universe  that  J esus  Christ 
hath,  by  the  grace  of  God,  tasted  death  once  for  every 
man.  Mercy  is  no  longer  a  fitful  and  capricious  exer¬ 
cise  of  benevolence;  it  is  the  very  power,  and  justice, 
and  truth  of  God.  A  just  God :  look  that  out  in  the 
Gospel  dictionary,  and  you  will  find  it  means  a  Saviour. 
Heaven  is  no  longer  a  fortress  to  be  besieged,  a  city  to 
be  taken,  a  high,  impregnable  elevation  to  be  scaled ; 
it  is  the  grand  metropolis  of  the  universe,  to  which  the 
King,  in  his  bounty,  has  thrown  up  a  royal  high-road 
for  his  people,  even  through  the  blood  of  his  Son.  Oh, 
come  to  Jesus  with  full  surrender  of  heart,  and  all  these 
blessings  shall  be  yours.  Some  do  not  hold  this  lan- 


248 


THE  CHKISTIAn’s  DEATH,  ETC. 


guage ;  they  belong  to  this  world,  and  are  not  ashamed 
to  confess  it.  “  Bring  fresh  garlands  ;  let  the  song  be 
of  wine  and  of  beauty ;  build  fresh  and  greater  barns, 
where  I  may  bestow  my  fruits  and  goods.”  But  then 
cometh  the  end.  “  The  rich  man  died  and  was  buried, 
and  in  hell  .lifted  up  his  eyes,  being  in  torment ;  and 
seeth  Abraham  afar  off,  and  Lazarus  in  his  bosom ;  he 
cried  and  said  ” — -the  only  prayer  that  I  know  of,  the 
whole  Bible  through,  to  a  saint  or  angel,  and  that  by  a 
damned  spirit,  and  never  answered — “  I  pray  thee, 
father  Abraham,  that  thou  wouldst  send  Lazarus  that 
he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water,  and  cool  my 
tongue,  for  I  am  tormented  in  this  flame.”  Listen  to  it, 
the  song  of  the  lost  worldling  in  hell.  Who  will  set  it 
to  music?  Which  heart  is  tuning  for  it  now ?  Sinner, 
is  it  thine  ?  Is  it  thine  ?  Don’t  put  that  question  away. 
Ask  yourselves  and  your  consciences  in  the  sight  of 
God,  and  then  come,  repent  of  all  your  sins,  flee  for  re¬ 
fuge  to  the  hope  that  is  laid  before  you  in  the  Gospel, 
trusting  in  serene  and  child-like  reliance  upon  Christ. 
Only  believe,  and  yours  shall  be  the  heritage  in  the 
world  to  come. 


X. 

THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 

“  But  what  things  were  gain  to  me,  those  I  counted  loss  for  Christ. 
Yea,  doubtless,  and  I  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord  ;  for  whom  I  have  suffered  the  loss 
of  all  things,  and  do  count  them  but  dung,  that  I  may  win  Christ.” — 
PniLippiANS  iii.  7,  8. 

There  can  be  no  sense  of  bondage  in  tlie  sonl  when 
the  tongue  utters  words  like  these.  Albeit  they  flow 
from  the  lips  of  a  prisoner,  they  have  the  true  ring  of 
the  inner  freedom,  of  the  freedom  which  cannot  be 
cribbed  in  dungeons.  They  are  the  expressions  of  a 
far-sighted  trust  which  yields  to  no  adverse  circum¬ 
stances,  which  endures,  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible, 
in  the  confidence  of  quiet  power.  There  was  a  very 
tender  relationship  subsisting  between  Paul  and  the 
Philippian  Church.  They  had  sent  Epaphroditus  to 
visit  him  in  his  prison  at  Rome,  to  bear  him  their  sym¬ 
pathies,  and  to  administer  their  liberality,  in  his  hour 
of  need ;  and  in  return  for  their  kindness,  and  as  a 
token  of  his  unfailing  love,  he  addressed  them  this 
epistle.  It  is  remarkable  that  it  contains  no  solitary 
word  of  rebuke,  that  it  recognizes  in  them  the  exist- 

11*  249 


250 


THE  APOSTLE'S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


ence  of  a  grateful  and  earnest  piety,  and  that  it  aims 
throughout  at  their  consolation  and  encouragement. 
In  the  commencement  of  the  present  chapter  he  warns 
them  against  certain  Judaizing  teachers,  who  would 
fain  have  recalled  them  to  the  oldness  of  the  letter,  and 
who  made  the  commandments  of  God  of  none  effect  by 
their  tradition.  “Beware  of  dogs,  beware  of  evil- 
workers,  beware  of  the  concision.”  lie  tells  them  that 
the  true  seed  of  Abraham,  the  royal  heritors  of  the 
covenant,  are  those  who  worship  God  in  the  spirit,  and 
rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  have  no  confidence  in  the 
flesh.  lie  proceeds  to  remind  them  that  if  there  were 
benefit  in  external  trusts,  he  stood  upon  a  vantage- 
ground  of  admitted  superiority.  “  Though  I  might 
also  have  confidence  in  the  flesh.  If  any  other  man 
thinketh  that  he  hath  whereof  he  might  trust  in  the 
flesh,  I  more  :  Circumcised  the  eighth  day,  of  the  stock 
of  Israel,  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  an  Hebrew  of  the 
Hebrews  ;  as  touching  the  law,  a  Pharisee  ;  concerning 
zeal,  persecuting  the  Church  ;  touching  the  righteous¬ 
ness  which  is  in  the  law,  blameless.”  But,  putting  all 
this  aside,  renouncing  these  grounds  of  confidence  as 
carnal  and  delusive,  resting  in  sublime  reliance  upon 
Christ,  he  records  the  noble  declaration  of  the  text,  at 
once  the  enduring  testimony  of  his  own  faith  and  the 
perpetual  strength  of  theirs.  “  But  what  things  were 
gain  to  me,  those  I  counted  loss  for  Christ.  Yea,  doubt¬ 
less,  and  I  count  all  things  but  'loss  for  the  excellency 
of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord ;  for  whom 


251 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 

I  have  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things,  and  do  count  them 
hut  dung,  that  I  may  win  Christ.”  We  can  conceive 
of  no  testimony  better  calculated  than  this  to  cheer  the 
timid,  or  to  confirm  the  wavering,  to  silence  the  mis¬ 
givings  of  the  doubtful,  or  cause  the  inquiring  soul  to 
sing  for  joy.  All  the  conditions  which  we  can  possibly 
desire  in  order  to  render  testimony  accredited  and  valu¬ 
able,  are  to  be  found  here.  It  is  not  the  utterance  of  a 
man  of  weak  mind,  infirm  of  purpose  and  irresolute  in 
action,  whose  adhesion  would  damage  rather  than  fur¬ 
ther  any  cause  he  might  espouse.  It  is  Paul,  the  Apos¬ 
tle,  who  speaks,  the  sharp-witted  student  of  Gamaliel, 
a  match  for  the  proudest  Epicurean,  versed  in  scholastic 
subtilties  and  in  all  the  poetry  and  philosophy  of  the 
day,  with  a  mental  glance  keen  as  lightning,  and  a 
mental  grasp  strong  as  steel.  It  is  not  the  utterance 
of  youth,  impassioned  and,  therefore,  hasty ;  sanguine 
of  imagined  good,  and  pouring  out  its  prodigal  applause. 
It  is  Paul,  the  man,  who  speaks,  with  ripened  wisdom 
on  his  brow,  and  gathering  around  him  the  experience 
of  years.  It  is  not  the  utterance  of  the  man  of  heredi¬ 
tary  belief,  bound  in  the  fetters  of  the  past,  strong  in 
the  sanctities  of  early  education,  who  has  imbibed  a 
traditional  and  unintelligent  attachment  to  the  profes¬ 
sion  of  his  fathers.  It  is  Paul,  the  some-time  persecutor, 
who  speaks,  the  noble  quarry  which  the  arrows  of  the 
Almighty  struck  down  when  soaring  in  its  pride.  It  is 
he  who  now  rests  tenderly  upon  the  cause  which  he  so 
lately  labored  to  destroy.  It  is  not,  finally,  the  utter- 


252  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

ance  of  inexperience,  which,  awed  by  the  abiding  im¬ 
pression  of  one  supernatural  event,  and  having  briefly 
realized  new  hopes  and  new  joys,  pronounces  prema¬ 
turely  a  judgment  which  it  would  afterward  reverse. 
It  is  Paul,  the  aged,  who  speaks,  who  is  not  ignorant 
of  what  he  says  and  whereof  he  doth  affirm,  who  has 
rejoiced  in  the  excellent  knowledge  through  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  a  veteran’s  life ;  alike  amid  the  misgiv¬ 
ings  of  a  Church  slow  to  believe  his  conversion,  and 
amid  the  dissipation  and  perils  of  his  journeys ;  alike 
when  first  worshipped  and  then  stoned  at  Lystra,  in  the 
prison  at  Philippi,  and  in  the  Areopagus  at  Athens  ; 
alike  when  in  the  early  council  it  strengthened  him, 
“born  out  of  due  time,”  to  withstand  to  the  face  of 
Peter,  the  elder  Apostle,  because  he  was  to  be  blamed, 
and  when,  melted  into  almost  womanly  tenderness  on 
the  sea-sliore  at  Miletus,  it  nerved  him  for  the  heart¬ 
breaking  of  that  sad  farewell ;  alike  when  buffeting 
the  wintry  blasts  of  the  Adriatic,  and  when  standing 
silver-haired  and  solitary  before  the  bar  of  Nero.  It 
is  he  of  amplest  experience  who  has  tried  it  under 
every  conceivable  circumstance  of  mortal  lot,  who, 
now  that  his  eye  has  lost  its  early  fire,  and  the  spring 
and  summei  are  gone  from  him,  feels  its  genial  glow 
in  the  kindly  winter  of  his  years.  Where  can  we  find 
testimony  more  conclusive  and  valuable  ?  Hear  it,  ye 
craven  spirits,  who  would  dastardly  forswear  the  Master, 
and  let  it  shame  you  into  Christian  manhood !  Hear  it, 
ye  bruised  and  tender  souls,  that  dare  hardly  venture 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


253 


faith  on.  Jesus,  and  catching  inspiration  and  courage 
from  it,  let  your  voices  he  heard  : 


“  Hence,  and  forever  from  my  heart, 

I  bid  my  doubts  and  fears  depart, 

And  to  those  hands  my  soul  resign, 

Which  bear  credentials  so  divine.” 

In  the  further  exhibition  of  this  passage  to-night,  we 
ought  to  refer,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  Apostle’s  insuf¬ 
ficient  grounds  of  trust,  and  secondly,  to  the  compen¬ 
sating  power  of  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ.  I  greatly  fear,  however,  that  the  first  part 
of  the  subject  will  be  all  that  I  can  manage  to  compass 
within  the  time  allotted  for  this  evening’s  service. 
Our  remarks  will,  therefore,  mainly  dwell  upon  the 
grounds  of  trust  which  the  Apostle  here  repudiates: 
“  What  things  were  gain  to  me,  those  I  counted  loss  for 

Christ.” 

There  is  something  remarkable  in  the  way  in  which 
the  Apostle  refers  to  the  past,  and  the  respectful  mannei 
in  which  he  speaks  of  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  and  of  his 
youth.  It  is  often  a  sign  rather  of  servility  than  of 
independence  when  men  vilify  their  former  selves. 
The  Apostle  had  not  renounced  Judaism  in  any  moment 
of  passion,  nor  in  any  prejudice  of  novelty.  Strong  con¬ 
victions  had  forced  him  out  of  his  old  belief.  He  had 
emerged  into  a  faith  purer  and  more  satisfying  far. 
But  there  were  memories  connected  with  the  fulfilled 
dispensation  which  he  would  not  willingly  let  die. 


254 


THE  apostle’s  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


There  were  phases  of  his  own  inner  life  there.  For  long 
years,  Judaism  had  been  to  him  his  only  interpreter  of 
the  divine,  the  only  thing  which  met  a  religious 
instinct,  active  beyond  that  of  ordinary  men.  The 
grounds  of  trust  which  he  now  found  to  be  insufficient, 
had  been  the  halting-places  of  his  soul  in  its  progress 
from  the  delusive  to  the  abiding,  from  the  shadowy  to 
the  true.  He  could  not  forget  that  there  hung  around 
the  system  he  had  abandoned,  an  ancient  and  tra¬ 
ditional  glow  :  it  was  of  God’s  own  architecture  ;  the 
pattern  and  its  gorgeous  ceremonial  had  been  given  by 
himself  in  the  Mount ;  all  its  furniture  spoke  of  him  in 
sensuous  manifestation  and  magnificent  appeal.  His 
breath  had  quivered  upon  the  lips  of  its  prophets,  and 
had  lashed  its  seers  into  their  sacred  frenzy.  He  was 
in  its  temple  service,  and  in  its  holy  of  holies;  amid 
shapes  of  heavenly  sculpture,  the  light  of  his  presence 
ever  rested  in  merciful  repose.  How  could  the  Apostle 
assail  it  with  wanton  outrage  or  flippant  sarcasm  ? 
True,  it  had  fulfilled  its  mission,  and  now  that  the  age 
of  spirituality  and  power  had  come,  it  was  no  longer 
needed ;  but  the  halo  was  yet  upon  its  brow,  and  like 
the  light  which  lingers  above  the  horizon  long  after  the 
setting  of  the  sun,  there  shone  about  it  a  dim  but 
heavenly  splendor.  While,  however,  the  Apostle  was 
not  slow  to  confess  that  there  was  glory  in  that  which 
was  to  be  done  away,  he  was  equally  bold  in  affirming 
its  absolute  worthlessness  in  comparison  with  the  yet 
greater  glory  of  that  which  remained.  “  What  things 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


255 


were  gain  to  me,  tliose  I  counted  loss  for  Christ.  It 
will  be  found,  I  think,  to  be  remarkable  in  the  review 
of  the  grounds  of  trust,  which  the  Apostle  here  repu¬ 
diates,  how  much  there  is  kindred  to  them  in  the 
aspects  of  modern  faith,  and  how  multitudes  now  cling 
to  them  with  tenacity,  and  hope  to  find  in  them  their 
present  and  eternal  gain.  Let  us  remind  you,  then,  for 
a  few  moments,  of  the  catalogue  of  trusts  which  the 

Apostle  tried  and  repudiated. 

The  first  thing  he  mentions,  is  sacramental  efficacy. 
u  Circumcised  on  the  eighth  day.”  He  names  circum¬ 
cision  first,  because  it  was  the  early  and  indispensable 
sacrament  of  the  Jewish  people,  the  seal  of  the 
Mosaic  covenant,  the  distinguishing  badge  of  the 
Israelites  from  all  other  nations  of  mankind.  Moreover, 
he  tells  us  he  had  the  advantage  of  early  initiation : 
«  Circumcised  the  eighth  day.”  The  Gentile  proselytes 
could,  of  course,  only  observe  the  rite  at  the  period  of 
conversion,  which  might  be  in  manhood  or  in  age.  But 
Paul  was  hallowed  from  his  youth,  from  the  eighth  day 
of  his  life  introduced  into  the  federal  arrangement,  and 
solemnly  consecrated  to  the  service  of  the  Lord.  He 
was  not  insensible  to  this  external  advantage,  but  he 
does  not  hesitate  to  proclaim  it  worthless  as  a  ground 
of  acceptance  with  God.  There  are  multitudes  by 
whom  baptism  is  regarded  in  the  same  reverent  light  as 
was  circumcision  by  the  Jews  of  old.  If  they  do  not 
absolutely  rejoice  in  it,  as  the  manner  of  some  is,  as  the 
instrument  of  their  regeneration,  at  least  they  have  a 


256  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

vague  notion  of  a  benefit  which  they  deem  it  to  have 
conferred,  and  are  living  on  the  unexhausted  credit  of 
their  parents’  faith  and  prayer.  If,  in  adult  age,  they 
make  any  profession  of  religion,  it  is  by  partaking  of  the 
Eucharist,  whose  elements  they  invest  with  mystic  and 
transforming  power.  There  is  no  inward  change  in 
them.  They  are  conscious  of  no  painstaking  and  daily 
struggle  with  corruption.  They  have  no  conflict  for  a 
mastery  over  evil.  Ho  percptible  improvement  passes 
upon  their  conduct  and  habits  from  their  periodical 
communions.  And  yet,  absolutely,  their  only  hope  for 
the  future,  springs  from  the  grace  of  the  baptismal  font, 
and  from  the  efficacy  of  the  sacramental  table ;  for  they 
persuade  themselves  into  the  belief  that  as  by  the  ordi¬ 
nance  of  baptism  there  w^as  a  mysterious  conveyance  to 
them  of  the  title-deeds  of  an  inheritance,  so  by  the 
excellent  mystery  of  the  Lord’s  Supper,  they  are  as 
inexplicably  ripened  into  meetness  for  its  possession. 
Brethren,  we  would  not  under-value  the  ordinances  of 
God’s  appointing.  We  are  not  insensible  to  the  benefit 
when  believing  parents  dedicate  their  offspring  unto 
God,  when  the  hand  of  parental  faith  rests  upon  the  ark 
of  the  covenant,  and  claims  that  there  should  be  shed 
out  upon  the  little  ones  the  spiritual  influences  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Chiefest  among  our  religious  memories, 
treasured  in  the  soul  with  a  delight  which  is  almost  awe, 
are  some  of  those  holy  communions,  when — the  life 
infused  into  the  bread,  the  power  into  the  wine — Christ 
has  been  evidently  set  forth  before  his  grateful  wor- 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


257 


shippers,  and  strong  consolations  have  trooped  up  to  the 
heavenly  festival.  But  it  must  not  he  forgotten  that  all 
the  graces  of  ordinances,  all  the  beatific  and  inspiring 
comforts  which  flow  through  divinely  appointed  ser¬ 
vices,  are  not  in  the  services  themselves,  but  in  the 
fullness  of  the  loving  Saviour,  the  anointed  one  in  the 
vision  of  Zecliariah,  without  whom  and  without  whose 
Spirit  they  could  have  neither  efficacy  nor  power. 
Brecious  as  are  the  collateral  benefits  of  baptism,  and 
hallowing  as  are  the  strength  and  blessing  of  the  Holy 
Eucharist,  we  do  solemnly  proclaim  them  worthless  as 
grounds  of  acceptance  before  God.  Hear  it,  ye  bap¬ 
tized,  but  unbelieving  members  of  our  congregation ! 
Hear  it,  ve  devout  and  earnest  communicants  !  Sacra- 
ments  have  no  atoning  virtue,  no  value  at  all  except  as 
avenues  to  lead  the  soul  to  Christ ;  and  it,  in  a  trust 
like  this,  you  pass  your  lives,  and  if,  in  the  exercise  of  a 
trust  like  this,  you  die,  for  you  there  can  remain  no¬ 
thing  but  the  agonizing  wakening  from  a  deception  that 
will  have  outlasted  life,  and  the  cry  wailed  from  the 
outside  of  a  door,  forever  barred,  “fe  were  early  dedi¬ 
cated  unto  thee  !  were  accounted  as  thy  followers  ;  we 
have  eaten  and  drank  in  thy  presence  ;  Lord,  Lord, 
open  unto  us.”  That  is  the  first  ground  of  trust  which 
the  Apostle  here  disclaims. 

Passing  on  in  the  catalogue,  we  find  that  the  second 
repudiated  confidence  is  an  honored  parentage,  u  Of  the 
'  stock  of  Israel,  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  a  Hebrew  of 
the  Hebrews.”  To  have  been  circumcised  the  eighth 


258 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


day,  proved  that  lie  had  been  born  of  parents  professing 
the  Jewish  faith ;  but,  inasmuch  as  the  Gentile  prose¬ 
lytes  also  observed  the  rites  of  circumcision,  it  did  not 
prove  that  he  had  been  descended  of  the  family  of 
Israel.  He,  therefore,  shows  that  in  purity  of  lineal 
descent,  in  all  those  hereditary  honors  upon  which  men 
dwell  with  pride,  he  could  boast  with  the  proudest  of 
them  all.  He  was  of  the  stock  of  Israel.  But  ten  of 
the  tribes  had  revolted  from  their  allegiance  to  Jehovah, 
had  soiled  their  nobility  by  their  vices,  had  entered 
into  degrading  companionship  with  surrounding  idola¬ 
ters.  He,  therefore,  reminds  them  further,  that  he  was 
of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin ;  illustrious,  because  it  had 
given  the  first  king  to  Israel ;  more  illustrious,  because, 
at  the  apostasy  of  Jeroboam  it  maintained  purity  of 
Divine  worship,  and  held  itself  faithful  among  the 
faithlessness  of  many.  Moreover,  he  had  not  been 
introduced  into  the  federal  relationship  by  personal 
adoption  nor  by  the  conversion  of  his  fathers.  There 
had  been  in  his  ancestry  no  Gentile  intermarriages ;  he 
was  “  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews.”  His  genealogy  was 
pure  on  both  sides.  There  was  no  bar  sinister  in  his 
arms.  He  was  a  lineal  inheritor  of  the  adoption,  and 
the  glory,  and  the  covenant.  There  wTas  much  in  all 
this  on  which  in  those  times  the  Apostle  might  have 
dwelt  with  pride ;  men,  generally  vaunt  those  honors 
which  are  theirs  by  birth. 

It  was  no  light  thing  surely,  then,  to  belong  to  nobi¬ 
lity  that  could  trace  its  far  descent  from  the  worthies 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


259 


of  the  older  world,  to  have  for  his  ancestois  those 
anointed  and  holy  patriarchs  who  trod  the  young  earth 
when  un wrinkled  by  sorrow,  undimmed  by  ciime, 
untouched  by  the  wizard  wand  of  time  ;  to  have  in  his 
veins  the  same  blood  that  marched  proudly  ovei  the 
fallen  ramparts  of  J ericho,  or  that  bade  the  affrighted 
sun  stand  still  at  Gibeon,  or  that  quailed  beneath  the 
dread  thunders  of  the  mount  that  burned.  And  yet  all 
this  accumulated  pride  of  ancestral  honor  the  Apostle 
counted  ££  loss  for  Christ.”  That  the  Jews  piided  them 
selves  on  their  descent  from  Abraham,  you  may  gather 
from  many  passages  of  Scripture.  You  remember 
when  our  Saviour  was  conversing  with  them  on  the 
inner  freedom,  he  was  rudely  interrupted  with  the 
words,  “  We  be  Abraham’s  children ;  we  were  never  in 
bondage  to  any  man.”  And  that  they  regarded  this 
descent  from  Abraham  as  in  some  sort  a  passport  to 
heaven,  we  may  gather  from  the  Saviour’s  rebuke  . 
“  Think  not  to  say  within  yourselves,  we  have  Abraham 
to  our  father,  for  I  say  unto  you,  that  of  these  stones 
God  is  able  to  raise  up  children  unto  Abraham.”  And 
there  are  multitudes  now,  brethren,  who  have  no  better 
hope  than  this.  There  are  many  in  this  land  of  ours 
who  are  stifling  the  misgivings  of  conscience,  and  the 
convictions  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  with  the  foolish  thought 
that  they  have  been  born  in  a  Christian  country,  sui- 
rounded  with  an  atmosphere  of  privilege,  or  are  the 
sons  ££  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies. 

Look  at  that  holy  patriarch,  forsaken  of  kindred, 


260  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

bankrupt  in  property,  and  slandered  in  reputation, 
“  Afflicted  grievously  and  tempted  sore,”  and  yet  bold¬ 
ing  an  integrity  as  fast  in  bis  sackcloth  as  ever  be  did 
in  bis  purple,  and  amid  terrible  reverses  blessing  tbe 
goodness  wliicli  but  claimed  tbe  gift  it  gave!  Mark 
that  honorable  counsellor,  pious  amid  cares  of  state, 
and  pomps,  and  pleasure,  walking  with  God  amid  tbe 
tumult  and  luxury  of  Babylon,  and  from  tbe  compa¬ 
nionship  of  kings  speeding  to  bis  chamber  that  bad  its 
lattice  open  toward  Jerusalem !  Listen  to  that  preacher 
of  righteousness,  as  now  with  earnest  exhortation,  and 
now  with  blameless  life,  he  testifies  to  tbe  whole  world, 
and  warns  it  of  its  coming  doom,  and  then,  safe  in  tbe 
heaven-shut  ark,  is  borne  by  the  billows  of  ruin  to  a 
mount  of  safety.  What  sublime  examples  of  consist¬ 
ency  and  piety  are  here !  Surely,  if  a  parent’s  faith 
can  avail  for  children  anything,  it  will  be  in  the  families 
of  Moah,  Daniel,  and  Job ! 

Mow,  listen — listen — ye  who  rest  on  traditional  faith, 
ye  who  are  making  a  raft  of  your  parents’  piety  to  float 
you  over  the  dark,  stormy  water  into  church  fellowship 
here,  and  into  heavenly  fellowship  hereafter — listen  to 
the  solemn  admonition :  “  Though  these  three  men, 
Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job,  were  in  it,  as  I  live  they  should 
deliver  but  their  own  souls  by  their  righteousness,  saith 
the  Lord  God.”  Alas !  if  the  grandson  of  Moses  was 
an  idolatrous  priest;  if  the  children  of  Samuel  per¬ 
verted  judgment  and  took  bribes;  if  David,  the  man 
after  God’s  own  heart,  mourned  in  hopeless  agony  over 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


261 


Absalom  dead !  bow  sad  tbe  witness  that  religion  is  not 
a  hereditary  possession !  how  appalling  the  danger  lest 
you,  children  of  pious  parents,  nursed  in  the  lap  and 
surrounded  with  the  atmosphere  of  godliness,  should 
pass  down  into  a  heritage  of  wrath  and  sorrow,  aggra¬ 
vated  into  intenser  hell  for  you  by  the  remembrances 
of  the  piety  of  your  fathers !  That  is  the  second  ground 
of  trust  which  the  Apostle  disclaims. 

Passing  on  in  the  catalogue,  we  find  that  the  next 
repudiated  confidence  is  religious  authority.  “  As 
touching  the  law,  a  Pharisee.”  This  was  not  the  first 
time  the  Apostle  had  made  this  affirmation.  You 
remember  that  before  the  tribunal  of  the  high  priest, 
he  affirmed,  with  a  not  unholy  pride,  “lama  Pharisee, 
the  son  of  a  Pharisee.”  And,  at  Agrippa’s  judgment- 
seat,  he  appealed  even  to  the  infuriated  Jews  whether 
he  had  not,  according  to  the  straightest  sect  of  then- 
religion,  lived  a  Pharisee.  And,  indeed,  there  was 
much  in  those  early  times  which  an  honest  Pharisee 
might  be  excused  for  counting  gain.  The  word  has  got 
in  our  days,  to  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  synonym  tor  all 
that  is  hypocritical  and  crafty ;  but  a  Pharisee  in  the 
Jewish  times,  an  honest,  earnest  Pharisee,  was  a  man 
not  to  be  despised.  In  an  age  of  prevailing  indiffe¬ 
rence,  the  Pharisee  rallied  around  him  all  the  godly, 
religious  spirit  of  the  time.  In  an  age  of  prevailing 
skepticism,  the  Pharisee  protested  nobly  against  the 
free-thinking  Sadducee,  and  against  the  courtly  Herod- 
ian  In  an  age  of  prevailing  laxity,  the  Pharisee  iucul- 


202  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

cated,  by  precept  at  all  events,  austerity  of  morals  and 
sanctity  of  life.  There  might  be  ostentation  in  his 
broad  phylacteries ;  at  all  events,  it  showed  he  was  not 
ashamed  of  the  texts  which  he  had  traced  out  upon 
the  parchment.  A  love  of  display  might  prompt  the 
superb  decorations  with  which  he  gilded  the  tombs 
of  the  prophets  ;  at  all  events,  and  that  is  no  small 
virtue,  he  had  not  ceased  to  honor  the  memory  of 
righteousness.  There  might  be  self-glory  in  his  fasts, 
rigidly  observed,  and  in  his  tithes,  paid  to  the  uttermost 
farthing;  at  all  events,  there  was  recognition  of  the 
majesty,  and  obedience  to  the  letter  of  the  law.  I 
repeat  it,  in  those  early  times  there  was  much  which 
an  honest  Pharisee  might  be  excused  for  counting  gain. 
But  this  also  the  Apostle  “  counted  loss  for  Christ.” 

There  are  multitudes  now,  I  need  not  remind  you, 
whose  trust  is  their  orthodoxy,  whose  zeal  is  their  par¬ 
tisanship,  whose  munition  of  rocks  is  their  union  with 
the  people  of  God.  There  is  some  danger,  believe  me, 
lest  even  the  tender  and  hallowed  associations  of  the 
Church  should  weaken  the  sense  of  individual  respon¬ 
sibility.  We  are  apt  to  imagine,  amid  the  round  of 
decorous  externalisms,  when  the  sanctuary  is  attractive 
and  the  minister  approved,  when  there  is  peace  in  the 
borders  and  wealth  in  the  treasury,  when  numbers  do 
not  diminish,  and  all  that  is  conventionally  excellent  is 
seen,  that  our  own  piety  must  necessarily  shine  in  the 
lustre  of  the  mass,  that  wre  are  spiritually  healthy,  and 
need  neither  counsel  nor  warning. 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


263 


The  Church  to  which  we  belong,  perhaps,  has  “  a 
name  to  live and  we  imagine  that  the  life  of  the 
aggregate  must,  in  some  mysterious  manner,  imply  the 
life  of  the  individual.  And  though  our  conscience  re¬ 
proach  us  sometimes,  and  though  we  are  frivolous  in 
our  practice,  and  censorious  in  our  judgment  of  otlieis, 
and  though,  in  our  struggle  with  evil,  the  issue  is  some¬ 
times  compromise  and  sometimes  defeat,  although  at¬ 
tendances  at  religious  ordinances,  an  occasional  and 
stifled  emotion  under  a  sermon,  a  spasm  of  convulsive 
activity,  a  hurried  and  heartless  prayer,  are  really  the 
whole  of  our  religion— we  are  sitting  in  our  sealed 
houses,  we  pass  among  our  fellows  for  reputable  and 
painstaking  Christians,  and  are  dreaming  that  a  joyous 
entrance  will  be  ministered  to  us  abundantly  at  last. 
O,  for  thunder-pealing  words  to  crash  over  the  souls 
of  formal  and  careless  professors  of  religion,  and  startle 
them  into  the  life  of  God !  I  do  solemnly  believe  that 
there  are  thousands  in  our  congregations,  in  different 
portions  of  the  land,  who  are  thus  dead  while  they  are 
seeming  to  live  ;  and  with  all  fidelity  I  would  warn  you 
of  your  danger.  It  is  a  ghastly  sight  when  the  flowers 
of  religious  profession  trick  out  a  mortal  corpse.  It  is 
a  sad  entombment  when  the  church  or  chapel  is  the 
vault  of  the  coffined  spirit,  “dead  in  trespasses  and 
$ins.”  That  is  the  third  ground  of  trust  which  the 
Apostle  here  disclaims. 

Passing  on  in  the  catalogue,  we  find  that  the  fourth 
repudiated  confidence  is  intense  earnestness,  “  Concern- 


‘264 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


ing  zeal,  persecuting  tlie  Church.”  Tliere  was  much  in 
this  that  would  awake  a  responsive  chord  in  the  heart 
of  a  bigoted  Jew.  The  Apostle  tells  us  he  was  present 
at  the  martyrdom  of  Stephen ;  and  in  his  zeal  for  the 
repression  of  what  he  deemed  to  be  a  profane  mystery, 
he  made  havoc  of  the  Church,  breathed  out  threaten- 
ings  and  slaughter,  and  persecuted  unto  the  death. 
Often,  indeed,  did  the  sad  memory  press  upon  him  in 
his  after  life,  bowing  him  to  contrition  and  tears.  “  I 
am  less  than  the  least  of  the  apostles,  that  am  not  meet 
to  be  called  an  apostle,  because  I  persecuted  the  Church 
of  God.”  But  there  is  incontestable  evidence  in  all 
this  of  his  zeal  for  the  Jewish  faith,  that  he  did  not  hold 
the  truth  in  unrighteous  indolence,  but  that  he  exerted 
himself  for  its  promulgation;  that  devotion  with  him 
was  not  a  surface  sentiment,  nor  an  educational  neces¬ 
sity,  but  a  principle  grasping,  in  the  strong  hand  of  its 
power,  every  energy  of  his  nature,  and  infibered  with  the 
deepest  affections  of  his  soul.  And  there  was  much  in  all 
this,  which  men  around  him  were  accustomed  to  regard 
as  gain  ;  but  this  also  he  esteemed  “  as  loss  for  Christ.” 

I  know  no  age  of  the  world,  brethren,  when  claim  for 
the  gainfulness  of  zeal,  abstract  zeal,  would  be  more 
readily  conceded  than  in  the  age  in  which  we  live. 
Earnestness,  it  is  the  god  of  this  age’s  reverence.  Men 
do  not  scrutinize  too  closely  the  characters  of  the  heroes 
they  worship.  Mad  ambition  may  guide  the  despotic 
hand ;  brain  may  be  fired  with  dark  schemes  of  tyranny; 
the  man  may  be  a  low-souled  infidel,  or  a  vile  seducer; 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


265 


he  may  be  a  poet  stained  with  licentiousness,  or  a  war¬ 
rior  stained  with  blood  5  let  him  be  but  earnest,  and 
there  is  a  niche  for  him  in  the  modern  P antheon.  _A_nd , 
as  it  is  an  understood  principle  that  the  character  of  the 
worshippers  assimilates  to  the  beings  they  worship,  the 
devotees  have  copied  their  idols,  and  this  is  an  earnest 
age.  The  trade  spirit  is  in  earnest ;  bear  witness,  those 
of  you  who  have  felt  its  pressure.  Hence  the  unpre¬ 
cedented  competitions  of  business ;  hence  the  gambling, 
which  would  rather  leap  into  wealth  by  speculation, 
than  achieve  it  by  industry  j  hence  the  intense,  the  un¬ 
flagging,  indomitable,  almost  universal  greed  of  gain. 
Men  are  earnest  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  The 
press  teems  with  cheap,  and  not  always  wholesome, 
literature.  Science  is  no  longer  the  heritage  of  the 
illuminati,  but  of  the  masses.  The  common  mind  has 
become  voracious  in  its  appetite  to  know ,  and  a  cry 
has  gone  up  from  the  people  which  cannot  be  disre¬ 
garded,  “Give  us  knowledge,  or  else  we  die.”  It  is 
manifest  in  all  departments  and  in  every  walk  of  life. 
Men  live  faster  than  they  used  to  do.  In  politics,  in 
science,  in  pleasure,  he  is,  he  must  be  earnest  who  suc¬ 
ceeds.  He  must  speak  loudly  and  earnestly  who  would 
win  the  heedful  rtiultitudcs  to  listen.  Such  is  the  im¬ 
petuosity  of  the  time,  that  the  timid  and  the  vacillating 
find  no  foothold  on  the  pavement  of  life,  and  are  every 
moment  in  peril  of  being  overborne  and  jostled  aside, 
trampled  down  beneath  the  rude  waves  of  the  rushing 
and  earnest  crowd. 


12 


266  THE  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

While  such  general  homage  is  paid  to  earnestness, 
what  wonder  if  some  people  should  mistake  it  for  reli¬ 
gion  ;  and  if  a  man  should  imagine  that,  "because  he  is 
zealous  in  the  activities  of  benevolence,  warmly  attached 
to  certain  church  organizations,  and  in  some  measure 
sympathetic  with  the  spiritual  forces  which  they  em¬ 
body,  he  is  really  a  partaker  of  the  undefiled  religion  of 
the  Bible?  And  I  must  go  further  than  this.  The 
tolerance — take  it  to  yourselves  those  who  need  it — the 
tolerance  with  which  believers  in  Christ — those  who  are 
really  members  of  the  Church,  and  have  “  the  root  of 
the  matter”  within  them — the  tolerance  with  which 
they  talk  about,  and  apologize  for  “  the  zealous  but  un¬ 
converted  adjuncts  of  the  Church,”  tends  very  greatly 
to  confirm  them  in  their  error.  Cases  throng  upon 
one’s  memory  and  conscience  as  we  think  upon  the 
subject. 

There  is  a  man — he  has  no  settled  faith  at  all  in  the 
principles  of  Christian  truth ;  he  is  cast  forever  upon  a 
sea  of  doubt  and  darkness ;  “  ever  learning,  yet  never 
able  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.”  He  may 
consider  without  acting,  till  he  dies.  But  what  says  the 
tolerant  spirit  of  the  age  ?  “  He  is  an  earnest  thinker, 

let  him  alone ;  he  has  no  faith  in  the  Bible ;  he  has  no 
faith  in  anything  certain,  settled,  and  indisputable,  but 
he  is  an  earnest  thinker;  and,  although  life  may  be 
frittered  away  without  one  holy  deed  to  ennoble  it,  if 
he  live  long  enough,  he  will  grope  his  way  into  convic¬ 
tion  by  and  by.” 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


267 


There  is  another  man ;  he  is  not  all  we  would  wish 
him  to  he ;  he  is  unfrequent  and  irregular  in  attendance 
upon  the  ordinances  of  God’s  house ;  he  is  not  always 
quite  spiritually-minded;  we  should  like  to  see  him 
less  grasping  in  his  bargains ;  but  he  is  an  earnest 
worker,  a  zealous  partisan,  an  active  committee-man, 
and  we  hope  all  will  be  right  with  him  in  the  end. 

There  is  another  man,  and  more  chivalrous  in  his 
sense  of  honor ;  he  is  known  to  hold  opinions  that  are 
dangerous,  if  not  positively  fatal,  upon  some  vital  sub¬ 
jects  of  Christian  truth.  But  he  is  an  amiable  man ;  he 
is  very  kind  to  the  poor;  he  has  projected  several 
measures  of  amelioration  for  their  benefit ;  the  widow 
blesses  him  when  she  hears  his  name.  He  is  an  earnest 
philanthropist ;  and,  thus  sheltered  in  the  shadow  of 
Ais  benevolence,  his  errors  pass  unchallenged,  and  have 
a  wider  scope  for  mischief  than  before. 

I  do  solemnly  believe  that  there  are  men  who  are 
confirmed  in  their  infidelity  to  Christianity  by  the  tri¬ 
bute  thus  paid  to  their  zeal.  It  may  be  that  some  in¬ 
fatuated  self-deceivers  pass  out  of  existence  with  a  lie  in 
their  right  hand,  because  earnestness,  like  charity,  has 
been  made  to  u  cover  a  multitude  of  sins.”  Since  theie 
is  this  danger,  it  is  instructive  to  find  out  what  is  the 
Apostle’s  opinion  of  mere  earnestness.  It  may  be  a  good 
thing — there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that — when  it  springs 
from  prompting  faith,  and  constraining  love,  and  when 
the  object  on  behalf  of  which  it  exerts  its  energies  is 
intrinsically  excellent.  It  is  a  noble  thing ;  we  cannot 


268  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

do  without  it ;  it  is  at  once  the  pledge  of  sincerity  and 
an  augury  of  success.  It  may  he  a  good  thing,  hut  it 
may  he  a  blasphemy;  just  the  muscle  in  the  arm  of  a 
madman,  that  nerves  his  frantic  hand  to  scatter  fire¬ 
brands,  and  arrows,  and  death ;  hut  do  not  deceive 
yourselves. 

Divers  gifts  may  have  been  imparted  to  you;  you 
may  have  discrimination  of  the  abstruse  and  the  pro¬ 
found;  the  widow  may  bless  your  footsteps,  and  the 
orphan’s  heart  may  sing  for  joy  at  your  approach;  the 
lustre  of  extensive  benevolence  may  be  shed  over  your 
character;  opinions  may  have  rooted  themselves  so 
firmly  in  your  nature  that  you  are  ready  to  suffer  loss 
in  their  behalf,  and  to  covet  martyrdom  in  their  attesta¬ 
tion,  giving  your  body  to  be  burned.  But,  with  all  this 
earnestness,  indisputably  earnest  as  you  are,  if  you  have 
not  charity,  diviner  far — if  you  have  not  “faith  that 
works  by  love  and  purifies  the  heart  ” — earnest,  indis¬ 
putably  earnest  as  you  are,  it  profiteth  you  nothing; 
your  confidence  will  fail  you  in  the  hour  of  trial ;  its 
root  is  rottenness,  and  its  blossom  will  go  out  as  dust. 
That  is  the  fourth  ground  of  trust  that  the  Apostle  here 
disclaims. 

Yet  again,  and  finally.  The  next  ground  of  trust  is 
ceremonial  blamelessness,  “  Touching  the  righteousness 
which  is  in  the  law,  blameless.”  The  Apostle’s  zeal  for 
the  Jewish  faith  was  rendered  more  influential  by  the 
purity  of  his  life.  There  are  some  whose  zeal  is  but  a 
cloak  for  licentiousness,  and  who  shamefully  violate,  in 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


2G9 


daily  practice,  the  rescripts  of  the  religion  for  which 
they  contend.  But  the  Apostle  was  not  one  of  those  im¬ 
pious  fanatics  5  he  had  been  in  sincerity  and  truth  a 
Jew,  so  rigid  and  inflexible  in  his  adhesion  to  the  laws 
of  Moses  that  he  was  esteemed  a  pattern,  and  rejoiced 
in  as  a  pillar  of  the  truth.  Not  that  before  God  the 
most  devout  Pharisee  had  anything  whereof  to  glory, 
but  that,  in  the  eyes  of  men,  who  judge  in  short-sighted¬ 
ness,  and  who  judge  in  error,  he  passed  for  a  reputable 
and  blameless  man.  And  this,  also,  the  most  ordinary, 
the  most  wide-spread  ground  of  false  confidence,  the 
Apostle  counted  u  loss  for  Christ.” 

I  need  not  remind  you,  I  am  sure,  how  deep  in  the 
heart  of  man,  resisting  every  attempt  to  dislodge  it, 
self-righteousness  lurks  and  broods ;  and  how  men  come 
to  regard  themselves,  in  the  absence  of  atrocious  crime, 
and  in  the  presence  of  much  that  is  humanizing  and 
kindly,  as  ripening  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  And 
it  is  no  marvel — I  do  not  think  it  one  jot  of  a 
marvel — if  we  consider  what  the  usages  of  society  are, 
and  the  verdicts  it  passes  on  the  virtues  and  vices  of  the 

absent. 

There  is  a  tribunal  out  among  men  that  never 
suspends  its  sessions,  and  that  is  always  estimating 
themselves  by  themselves,  and  comparing  themselves 
among  themselves,  and  so  is  not  wise.  From  acting  as 
judge  in  some  of  these  arbitration  cases  of  character,  by 
acting  as  an  arbiter  himself,  the  man  comes  to  know 
the  standard  of  the  world’s  estimation,  and  how  it  is 


270  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

that  it  comes  to  its  decisions ;  and,  in  some  reflective 
mood,  possibly,  he  tries  himself  by  it,  and,  looking 
down  below  him,  he  sees,  far  beneath  him  in  the  scale, 
the  outcast  and  the  selfish,  the  perfidious,  the  trampler 
upon  worldly  decencies,  and  the  scandalously  sinful. 
And  then  he  looks  into  his  own  case,  and  he  sees  his 
walk  through  life,  greeted  with  the  welcome  of  many 
salutations,  that  his  name  passes  unchallenged,  his 
integrity  vouched  for  among  men.  Then  he  looks  into 
his  own  heart,  and  finds  it  is  vibrating  to  every  chord 
of  sympathy;  friends  troop  around  him  with  proud 
fondness ;  children  “  climb  his  knees,  the  envied  kiss 
to  share.” 

It  is  no  marvel,  I  say,  if  a  man  accustomed  to  such 
standards  of  arbitration,  should  imagine  that  the  good¬ 
ness  which  has  been  so  cheerfully  acknowledged  on 
earth,  will  be  as  cheerfully  acknowledged  in  heaven, 
and  that  he  who  has  passed  muster  writh  the  world  so 
well,  will  not  be  sent  abashed  and  crest-fallen  from  the 
judgment-seat  of  God. 

And  there  is  nothing  more  difficult  than  to  rouse 
such  a  one  from  his  dangerous  and  fatal  slumber. 
There  are  many,  who,  thus  building  on  the  sand,  have 
no  shelter  in  the  hour  of  the  storm.  You  may  thunder 
over  the  man’s  head  all  those  passages  which  tell  of  the 
radical  and  universal  depravity  of  our  race.  Yes,  and 
he  admires  your  preaching,  and  thinks  it  is  wonder¬ 
fully  good  for  the  masses,  but  it  has  no  sort  of  applica¬ 
tion  to  him.  lie  does  not  feel  Himself  to  be  the  vile 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST.  271 

and  guilty  creature  you  describe ;  be  bas  an  anodyne 
carried  about  with  bim  to  silence  tbe  first  misgiving  of 
tbe  uneasy  conscience,  and  be  lies  down  in  drugged  and 
desperate  repose.  And  there  are  many,  it  may  be,  wbo 
continue  in  this  insidious  deception,  and  are  never 
aroused  except  by  tbe  voice  of  tbe  last  messenger,  or  by 
tbe  flashing  of  tbe  penal  fires.  That  is  tbe  last  ground 
of  trust  which  tbe  Apostle  disclaims. 

And  now  of  tbe  things  that  we  have  spoken,  what  is 
tbe  sum  ?  Just  this.  You  may  be  early  initiated  into 
the  ordinances  of  tbe  Christian  Church ;  you  may  have 
come  of  a  long  line  of  spiritually  illustrious  ancestry, 
and  be  tbe  sons  “of  parents  passed  into  tbe  skies;” 
you  may  give  an  intellectual  assent  to  the  grand  har¬ 
mony  of  Christian  truth  ;  you  may  be  zealous  in  certain 
activities  of  benevolence,  and  in  certain  matters  con¬ 
nected  even  with  tbe  Church  of  God  itself ;  you  may 
have  passed  among  your  fellows  for  a  reputable  and 
blameless  man,  against  whom  no  one  would  utter  a 
word  of  slander,  and  in  whose  presence  tbe  elders  stand 
up  in  reverence,  as  you  pass  by ;  and  yet,  there  may 
pile  upon  you — (0  God,  send  tbe  word  home  ! ) — there 
may  pile  upon  you  all  tbe  accumulation  of  carnal 
advantage  and  carnal  endowment;  you  may  gain  all 
this  world  of  honor,  and  lose  your  own  soul.  “And 
what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world, 
and  lose  his  own  soul  ?” 

I  have  no  time,  as  I  imagined,  to  dwell  upon  the  com¬ 
pensating  power  of  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 


272  TnE  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

Christ.  There  is  this  compensation,  however,  “  "What 
things  were  gain  to  me,”  says  the  Apostle,  “  those  I 
counted  loss  for  Christ.  Yea,  doubtless,  and  I  count  all 
things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  Jesus  my  Lord.”  This  compensation  runs 
through  creation ;  it  seems  to  be  a  radical  law  both  in 
the  physical  and  spiritual  government  of  God.  You 
see  it  in  things  around  you.  A  man  climbs  up  to  high 
place,  and  calumny  and  care  go  barking  at  his  heels. 
There  is  beauty,  dazzling  all  beholders,  and  consump¬ 
tion,  “like  a  worm  i’  the  bud,  preying  upon  its 
damask  cheek.”  There  is  talent,  dazzling  and  enrap¬ 
turing,  and  madness  waiting  to  pounce  upon  the  vacated 
throne. 

Oh,  yes,  and  there  is  a  strange  and  solemn  affinity, 
too,  in  the  Bible,  between  crime  and  punishment.  I 
can  only  indicate  just  what  I  mean.  The  Jews  rejected 
Christ,  perseveringly  rejected  Christ;  and  one  of  their 
pleas,  you  remember,  was,  “  If  thou  let  this  man  go, 
thou  art  not  Caesar’s  friend and  to  conciliate  the 
Roman  power,  they  rejected  Christ.  That  was  their 
crime ;  what  was  their  punishment  ?  The  Romans  did 
come,  by  and  by,  and  “took  away  their  place  and 
nation.”  Pharaoh  issued  his  enactment,  that  all  the 
male  children  of  Israel  should  be  drowned :  that  was 
the  crime ;  what  was  the  punishment  ?  Pharaoh  and 
his  host  were  drowned  in  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea  by 
and  by.  Ilezekiah  took  the  ambassadors  of  Babylon 
through  the  treasure-chambers  of  silver  and  gold,  osten- 


273 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 

tatiously  showing  them  his  wealth :  that  was  the  crime ; 
what  was  the  punishment?  The  treasures  of  silver 
and  gold  went  off  captive  to  Babylon  by  and  by. 
David,  in  the  lust  of  his  power,  took  the  census  of 
the  people,  and  numbered  them  :  that  was  the  crime ; 
what  was  the  punishment  ?  The  pestilence  fell  upon 
the  people  whom  David  had  numbered,  and  dried  up 
the  sources  of  the  strength  in  which  he  had  boasted  so 
fondly. 

And,  just  to  remind  you  of  another  case,  who  are 
those  who  are  represented  as  standing  at  the  barred 
gate  of  heaven,  knocking,  frantic  and  disappointed, 
outside,  and  crying  in  tones  of  agony  that  mortal  lips 
cannot  compass  now,  thank  God !  “  Lord,  Lord,  open 

to  us.”  Who  are  they?  blot  the  scandalously  sinful, 
not  those  wdio  on  earth  were  alien  altogether — outcast 
altogether — proscribed  altogether  from  the  decencies 
and  decorum  of  the  sanctuary  of  God.  No ;  those  who 
helped  to  build  the  ark,  but  whose  corpses  have  been 
strewed  in  the  waters  of  the  deluge ;  those  who  brought 
rafters  to  the  tabernacle,  but  who,  as  lepers,  were  thrust 
out  of  the  camp,  or  as  transgressors,  were  stoned  beyond 
the  gate  ;  those  who,  on  earth,  were  almost  Christians  ; 
those  who,  in  the  retributions  of  eternity,  are  almost 
saved ;  beholding  the  Church  on  earth  through  the 
chink  of  the  open  door,  watching  the  wdiole  family  as 
they  are  gathered,  with  the  invisible  presence  and  the 
felt  smile  of  the  Bather  upon  them  ;  beholding  the 
family  as  they  are  gathered,  beatific,  and  imperishable, 


274  the  apostle’s  ground  of  trust. 

in  lieaven ;  but  the  door  is  shut.  Almost  Christians ! 
almost  saved !  Oh  strange  and  sad  affinity  between 
crime  and  punishment !  What  is  your  retribution  to 
be?  “ Every  one  shall  receive  according  to  things  he 
has  done  in  the  body,  whether  they  be  good,  or  whether 
they  be  bad.” 

Oh !  come  to  Christ — that  is  the  end  of  it — come  to 
Christ.  Hallow  this  occasion  by  dedicating  your¬ 
selves  living  temples  unto  the  Lord.  lie  will  not  refuse 
to  accept  you.  Mark  the  zeal  with  which  the  Apostle 
Paul  proclaimed  the  truth :  mark  the  zeal,  the  love, 
indomitable  and  unfailing,  with  which  he  clung  to  the 
Master — “  I  determined  to  know  nothing  among  men 
but  Christ,  and  him  crucified.”  Oh  rare  and  matchless 
attachment !  fastening  upon  that  which  was  most  in 
opprobium  and  in  contumely  among  men.  Hover  did 
the  earnest  student  of  philosophy,  as  he  came  away 
from  some  Socratic  prelection,  utter  his  affirmation,  “  I 
am  determined  to  know  nothing  among  men  save 
Socrates,  and  him  poisoned ;”  never  did  enraptured 
youth  listen  to  the  persuasive  eloquence  of  Cicero,  and 
utter  his  affirmation,  “  I  determined  to  know  nothing 
among  men  save  Cicero,  and  him  proscribed.”  But  Paul 
takes  the  very  vilest  brand  of  shame,  and  binds  it  about  / 
his  brow,  as  a  diadem  of  glory:  “1  determine  to  know 
nothing  among  men  but  Christ,  and  him  crucified.” 
Yes,  that  is  it,  “  Christ,  and  him  crucified.”  u  God 
forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross.”  In  the 
cross  is  to  be  our  chiefest  glory'. 


THE  APOSTLE’S  GROUND  OF  TRUST. 


275 


Trust  that  cross  for  yourselves ;  take  hold  ol  it ;  it  is 
consecrated.  In  all  circumstances  of  your  history,  m 
all  exigencies  of  your  mortal  lot,  take  firm  hold  of  the 
cross.  When  the  destroying  angel  rides  forth  upon  the 
cloud,  when  his  sword  is  whetted  for  destruction,  clasp 
the  cross  ;  it  shall  bend  over  you  a  shield  and  a  shade  ; 
he  will  relax  his  frown,  and  sheathe  his  sword,  and  pass 
quickly,  harmlessly  by.  When  you  go  to  the  brink  of 
the  waters,  that  you  are  about  to  cross,  hold  up  the 
cross ;  and  by  magic  power  they  shall  cleave  asunder, 
as  did  ancient  Jordan  before  the  ark  of  the  covenant, 
and  you  shall  pass  over  dry-shod,  and  in  peace.  When 
your  feet  are  toiling  up  the  slope,  and  you  arrive  at  the 
gate  of  heaven,  hold  up  the  cross ;  the  angels  shall 
know  it,  and  the  everlasting  doors  shall  unbar  them¬ 
selves,  that  you  may  enter  in.  When  you  pass  through 
the  ranks  of  applauding  seraphim,  that  you  may  pay 
your  first  homage  to  the  throne,  present  the  cross,  and 
lower  it  before  the  face  of  the  Master,  and  he,  loi 
whose  sake  you  have  borne  it,  will  take  it  from  you, 
and  replace  it  with  a  crown. 


V 


XI. 

THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


“  And  he  said,  0,  let  not  the  Lord  be  angry,  and  I  will  speak  yet  but 
this  once  :  peradventure  ten  shall  be  found  there.  And  he  said,  I  will 
not  destroy  it  for  ten’s  sake.” — Genesis  xviii.  32. 


Most  remarkable  and  most  encouraging  is  this 
instance  of  prevailing  prayer.  It  might  well  stimulate 
us  to  the  exercise  of  sublimer  faith  when  we  behold  a 
mortal  thus  wrestling  with  Omnipotence,  wrestling  with 
such  holy  ^oldness  that  justice  suspends  its  inflictions, 
and  cannot  seal  the  sinner’s  doom.  Passing  over  that, 
however,  with  all  the  doctrines  it  involves,  there  is 
another  thought  couched  in  the  text,  to  which,  at  the 
present  time,  I  want  to  direct  your  attention.  The 
history  of  nations  must  be  regarded,  by  every  enlight¬ 
ened  mind,  as  the  history  of  the  providence  of  God.  It 
is  not  enough,  if  we  would  study  history  aright,  that 
we  follow  in  the  track  of  battles,  that  we  listen  to  the 
wail  of  the  vanquished  and  to  the  shout  of  the  con¬ 
querors  ;  it  is  not  enough  that  we  excite  in  ourselves  a 
sort  of  hero  worship  of  the  world’s  foster-gods,  the  stal- 
warth  and  noble  peerage  of  mankind ;  it  is  not  enough 
that  we  trace  upon  the  page  of  history  the  subtile  and 

276 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION.  277 

intricate  developments  of  human  character.  To  study 
history  aright,  we  must  find  God  in  it,  we  must  always 
recognize  the  ever-present  and  the  ever-acting  Divinity, 
working  all  things  according  to  the  counsel  of  his  bene¬ 
volent  and  holy  will.  This  is  the  prominent  aspect  in 
which  history  ought  to  be  studied,  or  grievous  dishonor 
is  done  to  the  Universal  Kuler,  and  intense  injury  is 
inflicted  upon  the  spirits  of  men.  God,  himself,  you 
remember,  has  impressively  announced  the  guilt  and 
danger  of  those  who  regard  not  the  works  of  the  Lord, 
nor  the  operations  of  his  hands.  The  history  of  ancient 
Israel,  for  instance,  the  chosen  people,  led  by  the  pillar 
of  cloud  by  day,  and  by  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night, 
through  the  marching  of  that  perilous  wilderness,  what 
was  it  but  the  successful  development,  in  a  series  of 
wondrous  deliverances,  of  the  ever-active  providence  of 
God  ?  There  were  some  things  in  that  history  which,  of 
course,  were  incapable  either  of  transfer' or  repetition ; 
but  the  history  itself  included,  and  was  ordained  to  set 
forth  certain  prominent  principles  for  the  recognition 
of  all  nations  ;  principles  which  were  intended  to  assert 
the  rights  of  God,  and  to  assert  the  obligations  of  his 
creatures ;  principles  which  are  to  be  consummated  in 
their  evolution  amid  the  solemnities  of  the  last  day.  It 
was  so  in  the  case  of  Sodom,  punished  as  an  example 
of  God’s  chosen  people.  Their  transgressions  had 
become  obduracy,  their  obduracy  had  blossomed  out 
into  punishment ;  but  a  chance  in  the  Divine  govern¬ 
ment  yet  remained  to  them  ;  peradventure  there  might 


278 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  OH  A  NATION. 


have  been  ten  righteous  in  the  city.  If  there  had  been 
ten  righteous  in  the  city,  those  pious  men  would  have 
been  the  substance,  the  essence,  the  strength  of  the 
devoted  nation ;  for  them,  on  their  account,  for  their 
sakes,  the  utter  ruin  of  the  land  might  have  been 
averted,  and  through  them,  after  the  Divine  displeasure 
had  passed  by,  there  might  have  sprung  up  renewed 
strength  and  recovered  glory.  W e  may  fairly,  I  think, 
take  this  as  a  general  principle,  that  pious  men  in  all 
ages  of  the  world’s  history,  are  the  true  strength  of  tlie 
nations  in  which,  in  God’s  providence,  they  are  privi¬ 
leged  to  live ;  oftentimes  averting  calamity,  oftentimes 
restoring  strength  and  blessing,  when,  but  for  them,  it 
would  have  lapsed  and  gone  forever.  This  is  the  prin¬ 
ciple  which  I  purpose,  God  helping  me,  to  apply  for  a 
moment  to  our  own  times,  and  to  the  land  in  which  we 
live ;  and  in  order  to  give  the  subject  a  great  deal  of  a 
practical  character,  I  will,  in  the  first  place,  paint  the 
pious  men,  and  then  show  the  effect  which  the  consis¬ 
tent  maintenance  of  a  course  of  piety  may  be  expected 
to  insure. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  who  are  the  pious  men  ?  Who 
are  they  whom  God,  who  never  judges  in  short-sighted¬ 
ness,  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  who 
cannot  possibly  be  deceived  or  mistaken  in  his  estimate 
of  human  character,  who  are  they  whom  God  desig¬ 
nates,  “  the  holy  seed  that  shall  be  the  substance 
thereof’’ — the  pious  men  that  are  the  strength  of  the 
nations  in  which  they  live  ?  In  order  to  sustain  the 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


279 


honorable  appellation  which  is  thus, assigned,  men  must 
cultivate  habits  of  thought  and  of  practice  that  aie 
appropriate  to  such  a  character.  I  will  just  mention 
two  or  three  particulars. 

In  the  first  place,  they  are  pious  men  who  separate 
themselves  avowedly  and  at  the  utmost  possible  dis¬ 
tance  from  surrounding  wickedness.  Men  are  placed 
under  the  influence  of  religion,  in  order  that  they  may 
separate  from  sin,  in  order  that  they  may  be  governed 
by  the  habits  of  righteousness  and  true  holiness.  In 
times  when  depravity  is  especially  flagrant,  there  is  a 
special  obligation  upon  pious  men  to  bring  out  then- 
virtues  into  braver  and  more  prominent  exercise,  re¬ 
garding  that  surrounding  depravity  as  in  no  wise  a 
reason  for  flinching,  or  for  cowardice,  or  for  compro¬ 
mise,  but  rather  for  the  augmented  firmness  of  then- 
purity.  Mow,  it  cannot  for  one  moment  be  doubted, 
that  in  the  times  in  which  we  live  iniquity  does  most 
flagrantly  abound.  There  is  not  a  sin  which  does  not 
exist,  and  exists  in  all  rankness  and  impurity.  Because 
of  swearing  the  land  mourns.  God’s  Sabbaths  are 
systematically  desecrated,  his  sanctuaries  contume- 
liously  forsaken,  his  ordinances  trampled  under  foot,  Ins 
ministers  met  with  the  leer  oftentimes  due  to  detected 
conspirators,  and  regarded  as  banded  traitors,  who  have 
conspired  against  the  liberties  of  the  world.  The  lusts 
of  the  flesh  scarcely  affect  to  conceal  their  filthiness, 
everywhere  unveiling  their  forms,  and  everywheie 
diffusing  their  pestilence.  We  do  not  venture  upon 


280 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


any  sort  of  comparison,  we  do  not  venture  to  compare 
the  aggregate  depravity  of  this  age  with  the  depravity 
of  any  age  that  has  preceded.  We  do  not  affirm  the 
general  fact,  that  the  heart  of  man  is  “  deceitful  and 
desperately  wicked,”  and  that  the  depravity  we  see 
around  us,  the  exhibition  of  the  carnal  mind,  “  which  is 
enmity  against  God,”  is  most  fearfully  aggravated  by 
the  abundance  of  privilege  by  which  the  people  are 
surrounded,  blow,  it  is  the  duty,  I  repeat,  of  those 
who  would  have  God’s  estimate  of  them  as  pious  men, 
that  they  should  regard  this  depravity  as  invoking  them 
to  bear  the  testimony  of  unsullied  and  spotless  holiness. 
Let  the  exhortations  on  this  matter  which  are  scattered 
throughout  the  pages  of  the  Bible  be  solemnly  pon¬ 
dered.  “  Be  not  conformed  to  this  world,  but  be  ye 
transformed  according  to  the  renewing  of  your  mind, 
that  ye  may  prove  what  is  that  good  and  acceptable  and 
perfect  will  of  God.”  “Abstain  from  the  appearance  of 
evil.”  In  times  when  depravity  is  especially  flagrant) 
do  not  even  borrow  of  the  garments  of  falsehood ;  do 
not  let  there  be  any  meretricious  semblance  of  that 
which  is  hateful  in  the  sight  of  God.  Abstain  from  the 
appearance  of  evil.  Come  out  of  it  so  thoroughly  that 
the  fellowships  and  intercourse  of  social  life  do  not 
seduce  you  into  a  sort  of  complicity.  “  Be  not  par¬ 
takers  of  other  men’s  sins.  Have  no  fellowship  with 
the  unfruitful  works  of  darkness,  but  rather  reprove.” 
“  Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  together  with  unbelievers, 
for  what  fellowship  hath  light  with  darkness,  and  what 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION.  281 

concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial,  and  what  part  hath  he 
that  believeth  with  an  infidel?”  £*  Cleanse  youi selves 
from  all  filthiness  of  flesh  and  spirit ;  perfecting  holi¬ 
ness  in  the  fear  of  God.” 

Yon  will  not  fail  to  perceive  that  the  whole  of  these 
passages  have  one  aim  and  one  summons,  and  that  is 
holiness ;  holiness,  as  spotless  in  the  secrecy  of  indi¬ 
vidual  consciousness  ae  in  the  jealous  watch  of  men  , 
holiness  shrined  in  the  heart  and  influencing  benignly 
and  transforming  the  entire  character ;  holiness,  that  is 
something  more  chivalrous  than  national  honoi  \  holi¬ 
ness,  something  that  maintains  a  higher  standard  of 
right  than  commercial  integrity ;  holiness,  something 
that  is  more  noble-minded  than  the  conventional  cour¬ 
tesies  of  life ;  holiness  which  comes  out  in  every-day 
existence,  hallowing  each  transaction,  taking  hold  ot  the 
money  as  it  passes  through  the  hand  in  ordinary  cur¬ 
rency,  and  stamping  upon  it  a  more  noble  image  and 
superscription  than  Caesar’s ;  holiness  written  upon  the 
bells  of  the  horses  and  upon  the  frontlet  of  the  forehead, 
an  immaculate  and  spotless  lustre  exuding,  so  to  speak, 
from  the  man  in  daily  life,  so  that  the  world  starts  back 
from  him,  and  tells  at  a  glance  that  he  has  been  with 
Jesus.  ISTow,  brethren,  it  is  to  this,  to  the  exercise  and 
maintenance  of  this  unflinching  holiness,  that  you  are 
called.  Here  is  the  first  prominent  obligation  of  pious 
men.  You  are  to  confront  every  evil  with  its  exact  and 
diametrical  opposite ;  and  he '  who  in  circumstances 
like  these  in  which  we  stand,  ventures  to  hesitate,  oi 


282 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


ventures  to  parley,  brand  him  as  a  traitor  to  his  coun¬ 
try,  a  traitor  to  his  religion,  and  a  traitor  to  his  God. 

Secondly,  if  you  would  be  what  God  regards  as  pious 
men,  you  must  cultivate  firm  attachment  to  the  doc¬ 
trines  of  Christian  truth.  There  is,  brethren,  in  our 
day,  a  very  widely-diffused  defectiveness  of  religious 
profession,  a  very  widely-diffused  departure  from  the 
faith  that  was  “  once  delivered  to  the  saints.”  This  is  a 
Christian  country.  Men  call  it  so,  I  know  ;  but  there 
is  in  daily  practice  a  strange  and  sad  departure  from 
the  precepts  of  Christianity — ay,  on  the  part  of  men  by 
whom  the  theory  of  this  being  a  Christian  country  is 
most  noisily  and  boisterously  maintained. 

Are  you  strangers  to  the  presence  in  the  midst  of  us 
of  the  dark  and  subtile  spirit  of  unbelief ;  a  venal  press 
and  active  emissaries  poisoning  the  fresh  blood  of 
youth,  disheartening  the  last  hope  of  age,  and  which,  if 
their  own  account  of  the  circulation  of  their  pernicious 
principles  is  to  be  relied  upon,  has  already  tainted 
hundreds  of  thousands  with  that  infectious  venom 
whose  poison  lies  not  in  the  destruction  of  the  body  ? 
True,  it  is  for  the  most  part  bland,  conciliatory, 
plausible,  rather  than  audacious  and  braggart,  as  in 
former  times,  veiling  its  deadly  purpose  in  song  or  in 
story.  But  the  dagger  is  not  the  less  deadly  because 
the  haft  is  jewelled,  and  infidelity  is  not  the  less  infi¬ 
delity,  not  the  less  pernicious,  not  the  less  accursed, 
because  genius  has  woven  its  stories  to  adorn  it,  and 
because  fancy  has  wreathed  it  into  song. 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


283 


Are  you  strangers  to  the  avowed  denial  on  the  part 
of  some  of  the  divinity  and  atonement  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  ?  to  the  man-exalting  opinion  which  relies 
for  its  own  salvation  upon  the  piled  up  fabric  of  its  own 
righteousness,  or  which  through  the  flinty  rocks  of  self- 
righteous  morality,  wTould  tunnel  out  a  passage  to  the 
eternal  throne  ? 

Are  you  strangers  to  the  workings  of  the  grand 
apostasy  darkening  the  sunlight  of  the  Saviour  s  love, 
dislocating  the  perfection  of  the  Saviour’s  work,  ham¬ 
pering  the  course  of  the  atonement  with  the  frail 
entangled  frame-work  of  human  merit,  lestless  in  its 
endeavors  to  regain  its  ascendency,  crafty,  and  vigilant 
and  formidable  as  ever  ? 

Are  you  strangers  to  the  heresy  which  has  made  its 
appearance  in  the  midst  of  a  body  once  deeming  itself 
the  fairest  offspring  of  the  Beformation,  and  which 
would  exclude  thousands  from  covenanted  mercies,  be¬ 
cause  they  own  not  priestly  pretensions,  and  confoim 
not  to  traditional  rites  ? 

Are  you  strangers  in  the  other  quarter  of  the  horizon 
and  of  the  sky,  to  dark  and  lowering  portents  that  have 
come  over  with  rationalistic  and  German  infidelity? 
Brethren,  there  is  a  duty,  solemn  and  authoritative, 
resting  upon  the  pious  men  that  they  hold  fast  that 
which  was  “  once  delivered  to  the  saints.”  Let  the 
exhortations,  too,  on  this  matter,  be  carefully  pondered. 
“Be  no  more  children  tossed  to  and  fro  with  eveiy 
wind  of  doctrine,  by  the  sleight  of  man  and  cunning 


284 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


craftiness  wliereby  they  lie  in  wait  to  betray.”  “  Stand 
fast” — not  loose,  not  easily  shifted,  having  a  firm 
foundation — “stand  fast  in  the  faith  once  delivered  unto 
the  saints.”  Be  “  rooted  in  the  faith  ;”  be  “  grounded 
in  the  faith  ;”  “  contend  earnestly  for  the  faith.”  Bre¬ 
thren,  here  is  another  invocation,  and  it  is  solemnly 
binding  upon  you.  And  while  there  are  some  around 
us  that  would  rob  Christ  of  his  grace,  and  others  that 
would  rob  Christ  of  his  crown,  and  others,  more  royal 
felons,  that  would  steal  both  the  one  and  the  other,  let 
it  be  ours  to  take  our  stand  firm  and  unswerving  by  the 
altars  of  the  truth ;  let  our  determination  go  forth  to  the 
universe,  “I  determine  to  know  nothing  among  men, 
save  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified.” 

And,  then,  thirdly,  if  you  would  be  pious  men  as  God 
estimates  piety,  you  must  cultivate  cordial,  brotherly 
love.  In  times  like  these,  there  is  a  solemn  obligation 
resting  upon  all  “  who  hold  the  head  ”  to  cultivate  the 
spirit  of  unity  with  all  “  who  hold  the  head.”  By 
unity,  we  do  not  mean  uniformity.  There  is  none,  there 
can  be  none  in  the  free  universe  of  God.  You  have  it 
not  in  nature.  You  may  go  out  into  the  waving  wood¬ 
land,  when  death  is  on  the  trees,  and  you  may  prune 
their  riotous  growth,  and  mold,  and  shape,  and  cut  them 
into  something  like  a  decent,  a  decorous  uniformity ;  but 
the  returning  spring,  when  it  comes,  will  laugh  at  your 
aimless  labor. 

Wherever  there  is  life,  there  will  be  found  variety  of 
engaging  forms  which  attract  and  fascinate  the  eye. 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


285 


We  do  not  mean  uniformity,  therefore ;  tlie  harmony  of 
voices,  or  the  adjustment  of  actions,  the  drowsy  repeti¬ 
tion  of  one  belief,  or  the  harmonious  intonation  of  one 
liturgy,  but  we  mean  “the  unity  of  the  spirit  in  the 
bond  of  peace,”  which  we  are  to  intensely  labor  to 
maintain  and  procure.  Let  the  exhortations  on  this 
matter  also  be  very  solemnly  pondered.  “  A  new  com¬ 
mandment,”  so  that  there  are  eleven  commandments 
now ;  the  decalogue  has  been  added  to  by  this  new 
commandment,  which  is,  indeed,  the  substance  and  es¬ 
sence  of  all  the  rest.  “  A  new  commandment  give  I 
unto  you,  that  ye  love  one  another.”  “  Be  kindly 
affectioned  one  to  another,  in  brotherly  love,  in  honor 
preferring  one  another.”  Nay,  the  Apostle  does  not 
hesitate  to  set  it  down  as  one  of  the  surest  evidences  of 
Christian  discipleskip.  “  We  know  that  we  have  passed 
from  death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren.” 
Compliance  with  these  exhortations  is  always  imperative, 
especially  imperative  in  seasons  of  national  dangei. 
Everything  that  is  ominous,  everything  that  is  solemn, 
everything  that  is  portentous  around  us,  must  be  re¬ 
garded  as  an  earnest  call  to  Christians  to  live  togetlici 
in  love.  This  love  is  to  be  cherished  everywhere— to 
be  cherished  toward  those  who  are  members  of  the  same 
section  of  the  universal  Church.  Here,  of  course,  ther e 
should  be  no  orphan’s  heart.  Here,  all  should  feel 
themselves  members  of  a  commonwealth.  There  should 
be  a  rejoicing  with  those  that  do  rejoice,  and  a  weeping 
with  those  that  weep ;  and,  as  by  electric  fire,  the  wants 


286 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


and  the  wishes  of  the  one  should  be  communicated  to, 
and  acknowledged  by  the  whole,  that  it  should  not  only 
be  cherished  in  our  own  communion,  but  toward  all  who 
hold  “  the  unity  of  the  spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace,  and 
in  righteousness  of  life.”  Wherever  Christ  is  acknow¬ 
ledged,  his  grace  magnified,  his  crown  vindicated,  his 
law  made  honorable — wherever  the  service  of  Christ  is 
the  aim,  and  the  glory  of  Christ  is  the  purpose,  there 
the  Church  should  know  as  Christian  and  should  hail  as 
brethren.  This  duty  is  one  that  has  been  scandalously 
neglected  in  the  times  in  which  we  live ;  and  that 
neglect  has  darkened  the  aspect  and  augmented  the 
perils  of  the  times.  Brethren,  we  must  all  amend  if  we 
would  not  betray.  And  when  the  Church  of  Christ 
shall  combine  in  heart  as  in  spirit  one,  then  shall  the 
great  building  of  the  universe  progress.  God  shall 
smile  upon  the  workmen,  “  the  glory  of  the  latter  house 
shall  exceed  the  glory  of  the  former,”  and  the  whole 
“building  fitly  framed  together  shall  grow  up  into  a 
holy  temple  of  the  Lord.” 

Then,  fourthly,  if  we  would  be  pious  men  as  God  esti¬ 
mates  piety,  we  must  be  zealous  in  endeavor  for  the 
spread  of  the  Gospel,  and  for  the  conversion  of  the 
world.  The  errors  and  the  crimes  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  render  this  essential.  We  have  but  to  gather 
into  our  minds  the  contemplation  of  guilt  so  heinous,  so 
offensive  that  it  rises  up  in  the  presence  of  the  Holy 
One,  and  calls  for  vengeance  as  he  is  seated  upon  his 
throne;  then,  we  have  but  to-  remember  the  conse- 


the  effects  of  piety  on  a  nation. 


287 


quences  of  that  guilt,  everywhere  producing  misery, 
everywhere  drying  up  the  sources  of  spiritual  affluence, 
everywhere  exposing  to  the  unending  perditions  of  hell. 
Now,  brethren,  nothing— and  I  would  speak  as  one 
member  of  the  army  summoning  others  to  the  battle¬ 
field _ nothing  will  avail  but  the  combined,  and  devoted, 

and  persevering  exertions  of  the  members  of  the  Church 
below.  How  else  shall  we  attempt  to  grapple  with  the 
depravity  around  us  ?  Parliamentary  enactments,  what 
can  they  do?  Threats  to  affright,  or  bribes  to  seduce, 
what  can  they  do  ?  Patronage  in  all  its  prestige,  and 
all  its  power,  all  that  can  be  possibly  brought  out  of 
State  treasury  or  of  State  influence,  what  are  they? 
Availless  utterly  without  the  power  and  Spirit  of  God. 
No  ;  there  must  be  a  band  of  faithful  men  who  are  thus 
renovated  and  redeemed  going  forth  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.  They  must  sustain  the  ministry  in  existing  pas¬ 
torates,  and  spread  it  wherever  it  has  never  been  estab¬ 
lished.  They  must  support  institutions  for  the  educa¬ 
tion  of  the  entire  man,  institutions  based  upon  the  Word 
of  God.  They  must  become  themselves  preachers  of 
“the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus;”  by  prayer,  by  influence, 
by  example,  by  effort,  they  must  display  all  the  grace 
which  has  redeemed  them ;  and  especially  they  must 
all  in  earnest,  repeated,  importunate  supplications  be¬ 
siege  the  throne  of  grace  in  prayer.  There  is  another 
summons,  the  last  I  shall  give  you  on  this  matter  to¬ 
night,  and  you  are  now  to  answer  it  with  intense  energy, 
with  intense  zeal.  Coldness  here  is  irrational.  Ardor 


288 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


here  is  reason.  Indifference  here  is  foolishness.  Ear¬ 
nestness,  or,  if  you  will,  enthusiasm  here  is  the  highest 
and  sublimest  wisdom. 

If  yon  would  be  pious  men,  therefore,  as  God  esti¬ 
mates  piety,  you  are  to  come  out  from  the  world  and 
to  be  separated  from  it ;  you  are  to  hold  fast  the  doc¬ 
trines  you  have  received ;  you  are  to  cultivate  to  each 
other  the  tenderest  brotherly  love  ;  and  you  are  to  be 
energetic  in  heart  for  the  conversion  of  the  world. 

II.  I  come  now,  secondly  and  briefly,  to  notice  the 
effects  which  we  are  warranted  in  expecting  such  con¬ 
duct  as  this  to  insure.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  text, 
that  Sodom  would  have  been  spared  if  the  ten  righteous 
men  had  been  there.  Pious  men  are  presented  to  us, 
therefore,  as  the  safety  of  the  nation  in  which  they  live. 
This  is  very  beautifully  presented  in  several  other  parts 
of  Scripture.  You  have  it,  for  instance,  in  the  pro¬ 
phecy  of  Isaiah,  lxv.  8,  9  :  “  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  As 
the  new  wine  is  found  in  the  cluster,  and  one  saith, 
Destroy  it  not ;  for  a  blessing  is  in  it ;  so  will  I  do  for 
my  servants’  sakes,  that  I  may  not  destroy  them  all. 
And  I  will  bring  forth  a  seed  out  of  Jacob,  and  out  of 
Judah  an  inheritor  of  my  mountains ;  and  mine  elect 
shall  inherit  it,  and  my  servants  shall  dwell  there.” 
Then,  again,  in  the  prophecy  of  Malaclii,  iii.  10,  11  : 
“  Bring  ye  all  the  tithes  into  the  storehouse,  that  there 
may  be  meat  in  mine  house,  and  prove  me  now  here¬ 
with,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  if  I  will  not  open  you  the 
windows  of  heaven,  and  pour  tou  out  a  blessing,  that 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


289 


there  shall  not  be  room  enough  to  receive  it.  And  I 
will  rebuke  the  devourer  for  your  sakes,  and  he  shall 
not  destroy  the  fruits  of  your  ground,  neither  shall  your 
vine  cast  her  fruit  before  the  time  in  the  field,  saith  the 
Lord  of  hosts.” 

"We  see  here  the  development  of  the  general  principle 
for  which  we  contend,  that  God  preserves  nations  for 
the  sake  of  pious  men.  The  annals  of  the  past  show 
how  very  frequently  he  has  put  to  naught  statesman¬ 
ship,  fleets,  and  armies,  and  has  rendered  honor  to  truth, 
meekness,  and  righteousness.  This  I  do  solemnly  be¬ 
lieve  to  be  the  case  in  our  own  land  in  this  crisis  of  its 
affairs,  and  I  am  bold  to  affirm  my  conviction,  that  the 
destinies  of  England  and  of  the  British  Empire  are  at 
this  moment  in  the  hands  of  its  pious  men.  If  they  be 
faithful  to  their  high  trust  and  to  the  vocation  to  which 
they  are  eminently  and  signally  called,  nothing  can 
harm  us ;  no  weapon  that  is  formed  against  us  shall 
ever  be  able  to  prosper.  I  think  this  might  be  made 
out  from  the  history  of  the  past,  both  as  to  temporal 
and  spiritual  matters.  I  appeal  to  you  whether  it  is 
not  manifest  that  the  temporal  interests  of  a  nation  are 
bound  up  in  its  piety?  Let  pious  men  prevail  in  a 
land,  let  the  population  become  imbued  with  the  spirit 
and  with  the  leaven  of  evangelical  godliness,  what  is 
the  consequence  ?  Order  is  at  once  preserved.  As 
their  holiness  spreads,  as  their  unworldly  yet  earnest 
example  manifests  itself  and  begins  to  be  felt,  sounder 

views  prevail.  The  moral  is  felt  to  exert  a  supremacy 

13 


290 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


over  the  secular ;  the  political  agitator,  the  infidel  dema¬ 
gogue,  the  philoosphical  theorist,  are  scouted  as  physi¬ 
cians  of  no  value ;  and  men  everywhere  learn  to  submit 
to  the  orderly  restraints  and  the  well-regulated  govern¬ 
ment  of  law. 

Let  pious  men  prevail,  and  they  will  keep  up  the 
freedom  of  a  land.  I  do  not  mean  that  crouching 
emasculation  on  the  one  hand,  nor  that  ribald  licen¬ 
tiousness  on  the  other  hand,  which  have  both  been 
dignified  by  the  name  by  extreme  political  parties  ; 
but  I  mean  well-ordered  and  rational  liberty  ;  liberty 
which  respects  the  rights  of  other  people  at  the  same 
time  that  it  asserts  and  vindicates  its  own  ;  liberty 
which  with  one  hand  renders  to  Ccesar  the  things  that 
are  Caesar’s,  and  with  the  other  hand  takes  care  to 
render  to  God  the  things  that  are  God’s  ;  liberty  which 
honors  men  as  men,  just  because  the  Divine  command 
tells  it  to  “  honor  all  men,”  and  because,  all  the  world 
over,  there  is  nothing  so  royal  as  a  man.  That  liberty 
will  be  preserved  wherever  pious  men  are  found,  and 
wherever  the  example  of  these  pious  men  begins  to 
spread  itself  among  people. 

And,  then,  pious  men  will  preserve  the  prosperity  of 
a  land.  There  is  a  false  prosperity  wThich  must  be  aban¬ 
doned  ;  there  is  a  false  honor  which  must  be  speedily 
forsworn ;  but  that  prosperity  which  is  substantial  and 
abiding  will  remain  under  the  influences  of  piety.  Art 
will  minister  then  not  to  luxury  but  to  truth  ;  science 
will  minister  then  not  to  infidelity  but  to  truth ;  com 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


291 


merce  will  minister  then  not  to  selfishness  but  to  be¬ 
nevolence  ;  and  other  realms  shall  render  to  us  their 
unbought  and  unpurchasable  homage,  and  the  sons  of 
our  country,  in  their  not  unholy  pride,  may  wave  their 
banner  to  the  wind,  with  the  motto  on  it : 

“  He  is  the  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free, 

And  all  are  slaves  besides.” 

Yes,  brethren,  it  is  Britain’s  altar  and  not  Britain’s 
throne,  Britain’s  Bible  and  not  Britain’s  statute  book, 
that  is  the  great,  and  deep,  and  strong  source  of  her 
national  prosperity  and  renown.  Do  away  with  this ) 
suffer  that  fidelity  with  which,  in  some  humble  measure, 
we  have  borne  witness  for  God,  to  be  relaxed ;  let  our 
Sabbaths  be  sinned  away  at  the  bidding  of  unholy  or 
mistaken  mobs ;  let  us  enter  into  adulterous  and  un¬ 
worthy  alliance  with  the  man  of  sin  ;  let  us  be  traitors 
to  the  trust  with  which  God  has  invested  us,  to  take 
care  of  the  ark  of  the  Lord,  and  the  crown  will  lose  its 
lustre,  the  peerage  its  nobility,  and  the  senate  its  com¬ 
mand  ;  all  the  phases  of  social  rank  and  order  will  be 
disjointed  and  disorganized ;  a  lava  tide  of  desolation 
will  overwhelm  all  that  is  consecrated  and  noble,  and 
angels  may  sing  the  dirge  over  a  once  great,  but  now 
hopelessly  fallen  people  :  “  the  glory  is  departed  from 
Israel,  because  the  ark  of  God  is  taken.”  Keep  fast  by 
that  ark,  hold  it — hold  your  attachment  to  it  as  the 
strongest  element  of  being,  and  there  shall  be  no  bounds 
to  the  sacred  magnificence  of  our  nation  ;  but  the  fires 


292 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


of  the  last  day,  when  they  consume  all  that  is  perishable 
and  drossy,  may  see  us  with  the  light  of  the  Divine 
presence  gleaming  harmlessly  around  our  brow,  and  in 
our  hand  the  open  law  for  all  the  nations  of  mankind. 

Those  are  temporal  benefits.  And,  then,  let  there  be 
pious  men  in  the  land,  and  spiritual  benefits  will  also 
be  secured.  There  will,  for  instance,  be  the  defeat  of 
erroneous  opinions.  Truth,  when  the  Spirit  inspires  it 
not,  abstract  truth,  is  weak  and  powerless.  Truth,  with 
the  Spirit  in  it,  is  mighty,  and  will  prevail.  There  can 
be  no  fear  as  to  the  result,  because  the  world  has  never 
been  left,  and  will  never  be  left  without  the  active 
Spirit  of  God.  Falsehood  breaks  out  impetuously,  just 
like  one  of  those  torrents  that  leap  and  rattle  over  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  after  the  thunder-storm,  over¬ 
whelming  in  the  first  outbreak,  but  dying  away  into 
insignificance  and  silence  by  and  by  ;  truth  is  the  little 
spring  that  rises  up  imperceptibly  and  gently,  and  flows 
on,  unostentatious  and  noiseless,  until  at  last  navies  are 
wafted  on  its  bosom,  and  it  pours  its  full  volume  of 
triumphant  waters  into  the  rejoicing  sea.  So  it  will  be 
with  truth  ;  wealth  cannot  bribe  it,  talent  cannot  dazzle 
it,  sophistry  cannot  overreach  it,  authority  cannot  please 
it;  they  all,  like  Felix,  tremble  in  its  majestic  presence. 
Let  pious  men  increase,  and  each  of  them  will  become 
a  centre  of  holiness ;  apostates  will  be  brought  back  to 
the  Church,  poor  backsliders  will  be  reclaimed  into  new¬ 
found  liberty  and  new  created  privilege,  and  there  will 
be  a  cry  like  that  on  the  summit  of  Carmel  after  the 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


293 


controversy  was  over,  and  had  issued  in  the  discomfi¬ 
ture  of  Baal,  “  The  Lord,  he  is  God ;  the  Lord,  he  is 
God.” 

And,  then,  better  than  all  that,  salvation  of  souls  will 
be  secured.  The  conversion  of  a  soul  is  an  infinitely 
greater  triumph  than  the  eradication  of  a  false  opinion. 
A  false  opinion  may  be  crushed,  and  the  man  that  holds 
it  may  be  in  imminent  spiritual  peril ;  convert  the  man’s 
soul,  and  his  opinions  will  come  right  by  and  by.  Oh, 
if  as  you  go  from  this  place  to-night,  you  were  to  be¬ 
hold  the  crowds  of  tempters  and  temptresses  to  evil  that 
will  cross  your  path  as  you  travel  homeward,  it  you 
think  of  their  activity,  of  their  earnestness  to  proselytize 
in  the  grand  diabolical  army,  and  to  make  sevenfold 
more  the  children  of  hell  than  they  are  themselves,  and 
if  you  think  of  the  apathy  of  the  faithful,  of  the  scanti¬ 
ness  of  effort,  of  the  failure  of  faith,  of  the  depression 
of  endeavor,  of  the  laxity  of  attachment  on  the  part  of 
believers  in  Jesus,  surely  there  is  enough  to  make  you 
abashed  and  confounded.  Brethren,  I  should  like,  if 
I  could,  to  bring  before  you  one  solitary  soul,  to  fasten 
your  attention  upon  that  soul,  to  transfix  it  as  with  a 
lightning  glance  before  you,  so  that  you  might  trace  it 
in  its  downward  path,  see  it  as  habit  crusts  it  over,  and 
selfishness  rejoices  over  it,  and  the  foul  fiend  gloats 
upon  it  in  mockery,  and  disease,  prematurely  induced, 
comes  upon  it,  and  death  waits  for  his  prey,  and  hell  is 
moved  from  beneath  to  meet  it  at  its  coming,  and  that 
you  should  follow  it  down  into  those  dark  and  dread 


294 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


abodes,  wliicb  man’s  pencil  painteth  not,  and  of  which 
man’s  imagination,  thank  God,  cannot  conceive  !  Oh ! 
draw  the  curtain  over  that ;  we  cannot  bear  the  sight ! 
But  as  you  think  of  the  real  spiritual  peril  in  which  not 
one,  not  a  family — Oh  !  if  there  were  but  a  family,  all 
London  would  be  awake  for  its  deliverance — but  there 
is  a  world  in  danger — not  one,  not  a  family,  not  an 
island,  not  a  continent,  but  a  -world — if  I  could  only 
fasten  that  upon  your  consciences  to-night,  each  one  of 
you  would  surely  go  away  with  tearful  eye  and  glad 
heart,  glad  that  you  were  able  to  do  anything  for  God, 
and  would  not  rest  without  saying,  “For  Zion’s  sake  1 
will  not  hold  my  peace,  and  for  Jerusalem’s  sake,  I  will 
not  rest  until  the  righteousness  thereof  go  forth  as  the 
brightness,  and  the  salvation  thereof  as  the  lamp  that 
burneth.” 

Just  one  parting  word.  If  you  would  do  all  this,  you 
must  be  pious  yourselves;  but  do  not  be  among  the 
number  of  those  wrho  busy  themselves  in  the  external- 
isms  of  godliness,  and  are  in  some  measure  active  in 
connection  with  the  Church  of  God,  but  are  out  of 
Christ,  aliens  themselves  from  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel.  If  you  are  not  personally  pious,  you  wrill  be 
accomplices  in  drawing  down  the  thunderbolt,  and 
chargeable  to  that  extent  with  your  country’s  ruin,  and 
the  ruin  of  souls.  Come  to  Christ  now ;  let  all  your 
past  iniquity  be  forgotten  and  forgiven  as  you  bow 
before  him  in  humiliation  and  in  tears;  he  will  not 
refuse  you  ;  he  will  not  cast  yotf  out.  Then  enter  upon 


the  effects  of  piety  on  a  nation. 


295 


a  life  of  piety  in  spite  of  all  that  scofiers  say.  All ! 
religion  is  not  so  mean  a  thing  as  infidels  represent  it  to 
he  !  They  curl  the  lip  of  scorn  at  ns,  and  we  can  hear 
that  5  they  flash  the  eye  of  hate  at  ns,  and  we  can  hear 
that,  as  long  as  God  looks  upon  us  with  complacency, 
as  long  as  he  has  promised  to  crown  us  as  conquerors  in 
heaven,  for  which,  hy  our  spiritual  conflicts  and  vic¬ 
tories,  we  shall  have  come  prepared.  Oh,  it  is  no  mean 
thing.  The  saint,  the  righteous  man,  the  pious  believer 
in  Jesus,  is  a  patriot  as  well  as  a  saint.  The  worldling 
may  sneer  and  scorn,  hut  we  have  a  nohle  revenge,  foi 
it  is  pious  men  that  have  kept  the  conflagrating 
elements  away  from  this  long  doomed  world  up  to  the 
present  moment  of  its  history  ;  and  if  the  ten  righteous 
had  not  been  in  this  enormous  Sodom,  long  ere  now 
would  the  firebrand  of  destruction  have  struck  it  that  it 
might  he  consumed  in  its  deserved  ruin.  Thank  God, 

there  is  hope  for  the  world  yet. 

When  the  prophet  in  depression  and  in  sorrow  was 
saying,  <£  I,  even  I,  only  am  left,  the  prophet  of  the 
Lord,”  God  pointed  him  to  seven  thousand  that  had 
never  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal  j  and  there  aie  faithful 
ones  in  the  secret  places  of  the  world  yet,  palm-tree 
Christians  growing  up  in  unexpected  places,  amid  sandy 
soil  and  with  no  companionship,  who  are  flourishing  in 
godly  vigor  and  earnest  in  persevering  prayer.  There 
is  hope  for  the  world  yet.  Oh,  for  the  increase  of  these 
pious  men!  Be  you  of  the  number  of  this  unosten¬ 
tatious  hut  valiant  host.  Do  you  pant  for  fame  ?  You 


296 


THE  EFFECTS  OF  PIETY  ON  A  NATION. 


can  find  it  here.  Young  men,  there  are  some  of  you  in 
the  presence  of  God  that  have  ambition  high  hounding 
in  your  hearts,  who  feel  the  elasticity  of  youth  within 
you ;  who  feel  that  the  flight  of  your  soaring  spirit  is 
not  the  flight  of  the  flagging  or  the  breathless ;  that 
there  is  something  still  within  you  that  pants  for  a 
distinction  other  than  you  have  yet  attained ;  oh  come 
to  Christ,  enlist  yourselves  in  his  service,  be  soldiers  of 
the  cross,  fight  moral  battles,  and  yours  shall  be  the 
victory.  To  you  the  Church  is  looking ;  your  fathers, 
worn  out  with  labor,  exhausted  with  the  vicissitudes 
and  the  victories  of  years,  are  passing  rapidly  away,  and 
they  are  wondering  where  their  successors  are.  They 
have  gone  from  us;  just  when  we  were  expecting  for 
them  higher  fields  and  wider  triumphs,  the  fiery  chariot 
came  and  they  were  not,  and  nothing  was  left  for  us  but 
to  cry  as  we  followed  the  track  of  the  cavalcade,  in  our 
hopelessness,  almost  in  our  agony,  “My  father,  my 
father,  the  chariot  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof.” 
Oh !  thank  God,  they  have  flung  their  mantles  down, 
and  it  is  for  you  to  catch  them,  to  robe  yourselves  to-day 
in  the  garments  of  the  holy  departed,  and  like  them,  to 
do  and  die. 


XII. 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB— HIS  LIFE  AND 

ITS  LESSONS. 

“  Elijah,  the  Tishbite,  who  was  of  the  inhabitants  of  Gilead.” — 

1  Kings,  xvii.  1. 

The  mountains  of  the  Bible  will  well  repay  the 
climber.  There  is  a  glorious  prospect  from  their 
summits,  and  moral  bracing  in  the  breathing  of  their 
difficult  air. 

Most  of  the  events  in  Bible  history,  which  either 
embody  great  principles,  illustrate  Divine  perfections, 
or  bear  impressively  upon  the  destinies  of  man,  have 
had  the  mountains  for  the  pedestals  of  their  achieve¬ 
ment.  Beneath  the  arch  of  the  Covenant-rainbow  the 
lone  ark  rested  upon  Ararat ;  Abraham’s  trial,  handing 
down  the  high  faith  of  the  hero-father,  and  typing  the 
greater  sacrifice  of  the  future  time,  must  be  “  on  one 
of  the  mountains  ”  in  the  land  of  Moriah ;  Aaron, 
climbing  heavenward,  is  “unclothed  and  clothed  upon” 
amid  the  solitudes  of  Hor ;  and  where  but  on  the  crest 
of  Nebo  could  Moses  gaze  upon  the  land  and  die?  If 
there  is  to  be  a  grand  experiment  to  determine  between 
rival  faiths — to  defeat  Baal — to  exalt  Jehovah,  what 

13*  297 


298 


THE  PROPHET  OF  BORF.B, 

spot  so  fitting  as  the  excellency  of  Carmel  ?  It  was  due 
to  the  great  and  dread  events  of  the  Saviour’s  history 
that  they  should  be  enacted  where  the  world’s  broad 
eye  could  light  upon  them,  hence  he  is  transfigured 
“  on  the  high  mountain  apart,”  on  Olivet  he  prays,  on 
Calvary  he  dies  ;  and,  at  the  close  of  all,  in  the 
splendors  of  eternal  allotment,  amid  adoring  angels 
and  perfected  men,  we  cheerfully  “  come  to  Mount 
Zion.” 

Precious  as  is  the  Scripture  in  all  phases  of  its 
appearance,  the  quality  which,  above  all  others,  invests 
it  with  a  richer  value,  is  its  exquisite  adaptation  to 
every  necessity  of  man.  Professing  itself  to  be  his 
infallible  and  constant  instructor,  it  employs  all  modes 
of  communicating  wisdom.  “  The  Man  of  our  coun¬ 
sel  ”  is  always  at  hand,  in  every  condition  and  in 
every  peril.  But  we  learn  more  from  living  exemplar 
than  from  preceptive  utterance.  The  truth,  which  has 
not  been  realized  by  some  man  of  like  passions  with 
ourselves,  comes  cold  and  distant  like  a  lunar  rainbow. 
It  may  furnish  us  with  correct  notions  and  a  beautiful 
system,  just  as  we  can  learn  proportion  from  a  statue, 
but  there  needs  the  touch  of  life  to  influence  and  to 
transform.  Hence,  not  the  least  impressive  and  salu¬ 
tary  Bible  teaching  is  by  the  accurate  exhibition  of 
individual  character.  A  man’s  life  is  there  sketched 
out  to  us,  not  that  side  of  it  merely  which  he  presents 
to  the  world,  which  the  restraints  of  society  have  modi¬ 
fied,  which  intercourse  has  subdued  into  decorousness, 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


299 


and  which  shrouds  his  meaner  self  in  a  conventional 
hypocrisy ;  but  his  inner  life,  his  management  of  the 
trifles  which  give  the  sum  of  character,  his  oidinaiy 
and  household  doings,  as  well  as  the  rarer  seasons  of 
exigency  and  of  trial.  The  whole  man  is  before  us,  and 
we  can  see  him  as  he  is.  Partiality  cannot  blind  us, 
nor  prejudice  distort  our  view.  Nothing  is  exagge¬ 
rated,  nothing  is  concealed.  His  defects  are  theie  his 
falterings  and  depressions — his  mistrusts  and  betrayals 
— like  so  many  beacons  glaring  their  warning  lights 
upon  our  path.  His  excellencies  are  there  his  stern 
integrity  and  consistent  walking,  his  intrepid  wrestling 
and  heroic  endurance — that  we  may  he  followers  of  his 
patience  and  faith,  and  ultimately  share  his  crown.  So 
marked  and  hallowed  is  this  candor,  that  we  do  not 
wonder  at  its  being  alleged  as  an  argument  for  the 
book’s  divinity.  The  characters  are  all  human  in  theii 
experience,  although  divine  in  their  portrayal.  They 
were  men ,  those  Bible  worthies,  world-renowned, 
God-smitten,  princely  men,  towering  indeed  in  moral, 
as  Saul  in  physical,  stature  above  their  fellows, 
but  still  men  of  like  passions  with  ourselves— to  the 
same  frailties  incident — with  the  same  trials  battling 
by  the  same  temptations  frequently  and  foully  over¬ 
come.  Their  perfect  humanness  is,  indeed,  their  stiong- 
est  influence  and  greatest  charm.  Of  what  avail  to  us 
were  the  biography  of  an  angel,  could  you  chronicle  his 
joys  in  the  calm  round  of  heaven  ?  There  could  be  no 
sympathy  either  of  condition  or  experience. 


300 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 

But  the  Bible,  assuming  the  essential  identity  of  the 
race,  tells  of  man,  and  the  “  one  blood  ”  of  all  nations 
leaps  up  to  the  thrilling  tale.  There  is  the  old  narra¬ 
tive  of  lapse  and  loss;  the  tidings,  ancient  and  unde¬ 
caying,  of  temptation,  conflict,  mastery,  recompense. 
In  ourselves  there  have  been  the  quiverings  of  David’s 
sorrow,  and  the  stirrings  of  David’s  sin.  We,  perhaps, 
like  Elijah,  have  been  by  turns  confessor  and  coward — 
fervent  as  Peter,  and  as  faithless  too.  The  heart 
answers  to  the  history,  and  responsive  and  struggling 
humanity  owns  the  sympathy,  and  derives  the  bless¬ 
ing. 

It  is  a  strange  history,  this  history  of  the  Prophet 
Elijah.  Throughout  the  whole  of  his  career  we  are 
attracted  almost  more  by  his  inspiration  than  by  him¬ 
self.  We  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  man  in  the 
thought  of  the  Divine  energy  which  wielded  him  at  its 
terrible  or  gentle  will.  The  unconsciousness  of  self, 
which  is  the  distinctive  mark  of  the  true  seer,  is  always 
present  with  him — in  his  manliest  and  in  his  meekest 
hours — in  his  solitary  prayer  in  the  loft  at  Zarephath, 
in  his  solemn  sarcasm  on  the  summit  of  Carmel — when 
he  flushes  the  cheek  of  a  dead  child,  or  pales  the  brow 
of  a  living  king.  He  is  surrendered  always  to  the 
indwelling  God.  lie  always  seems  to  regard  himself  as 
a  chosen  and  a  separated  man — lifted,  by  his  consecra¬ 
tion,  above  the  love  or  the  fear  of  his  kind — forced, 
ever  and  anon,  upon  difficult  and  perilous  duty — 
a  flying  roll,  carven  with  mercy  and  with  judgment — 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


301 


an  echo,  rather  than  an  original  utterance — “  the 
voice  of  one,”  not  “one,”  but  “the  voice  of  one 
crying  in  the  wilderness,  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the 
Lord!” 

How  abruptly  lie  hursts  upon  the  world.  We  know 
nothing  of  his  birth,  nothing  of  his  parentage,  nothing 
of  his  training.  On  all  these  matters  the  record  is  pro¬ 
foundly  silent.  He  is  presented  to  us  at  once,  a  full- 
grown  and  authoritative  man,  starting  in  the  path  of 
Ahab  sudden  as  the  lightning,  energetic  and  alarming 
as  the  thunder.  “Elijah  the  Tishbite,  who  was  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Gilead.”  This  is  all.  And  it  is  all  we 
need.  What  reck  we  of  his  ancestry  ?  He  is  royal  in 
his  deeds.  Obscure  in  his  origin,  springing  probably 
from  the  herdsmen  or  vine-dressers  of  Galilee,  regarded 
by  the  men  of  Tishbe  as  one  of  themselves — a  little 
reserved  and  unsocial  withal — his  person,  perhaps,  held 
in  contempt  by  the  licentious  court,  and  his  intrusions 
stigmatized  as  annoying  impertinence,  he  held  oil  his 
high  way  notwithstanding,  performed  stupendous  mira¬ 
cles,  received  large  revelations,  and  at  last,  tired  of  the 
world,  went  up  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire.  How 
often  have  we  seen  the  main  fact  of  this  story  realized 
in  later  times !  Men  have  looked  at  the  trappings  ot 
the  messenger — not  at  the  import  of  his  message. 
Their  faculty  of  appreciation  has  been  grievously  im¬ 
paired.  A  prophet  has  leaped  into  the  day  with  his 
burden  of  reproof  and  truth-telling,  but  he  has  not  been 
clad  in  silken  sheen,  nor  a  speaker  of  smooth  things, 


302 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


and  tlie  world  has  gone  on  to  its  merchandise,  while  the 
broken-hearted  seer  has  retired  into  the  wilderness  to 
die.  A  poet  has  warbled  out  his  soul  in  secret,  and 
discoursed  most  exquisite  music — but,  alas !  it  has  been 
played  among  the  tombs.  A  glorious  iconoclast  has 
come  forth  among  the  peoples,  “expecting  that  they 
would  have  understood  how  that  the  Lord  by  him  had 
sent  deliverance,”  but  he  has  been  met  by  the  insulting 
rejoinder,  “Who  made  thee  a  ruler  and  a  judge?” 
Thus,  in  the  days  of  her  nonage,  because  they  lacked 
high  estate  and  lofty  lineage,  has  the  world  poured  con¬ 
tempt  upon  some  of  the  choicest  of  her  sons.  “A 
heretic !”  shouted  the  furious  bigotry  of  the  Inquisition. 
“  And  yet  it  moves,”  said  Galileo — resolute,  even  in  the 
moment  of  enforced  abjuration,  for  the  immutable  truth. 
A  scoffing  to  Genoese  bravos,  grandees  of  Portugal,  and 
the  court  of  England,  Columbus  spied  the  log  of  wood 
in  its  eastward  drifting,  and  opened  up  America — the 
rich  El  Dorado  of  many  an  ancient  dream.  “  An  em¬ 
piric  !”  shouted  all  the  Doctor  Sangradoes  of  the  time, 
and  the  old  physiologists  hated  ITarvey  with  an  in¬ 
tensely  professional  hatred,  because  he  affirmed  the  cir¬ 
culation  of  the  blood.  “A  Bedfordshire  tinker!” 
sneered  the  polite  ones,  with  a  whiff  of  the  otto  of  roses, 
as  if  the  very  mention  of  his  craft  was  infragrant; 
“  what  has  he  to  do  to  preach,  and  write  books,  and  set 
up  for  a  teacher  of  his  fellows?”  But  glorious  John 
Bunyan,  leaving  them  in  their  own  Cabul-country, 
dwelt  in  the  land  of  Beulah,  climbed  up  straight  to  the 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


303 


presence  of  the  shining  ones,  and  had  “  all  the  trumpets 
sounding  for  him  on  the  other  side.”  Sidney  Smith 
wrote  at,  and  tried  to  write  down  “  the  consecrated 
Cobbler,”  who  was  to  evangelize  India ;  but  "William 
Carey  shall  live  embalmed  in  memories  of  converted 
thousands  long  after  the  witty  canon  of  St.  Paul’s  is  for¬ 
gotten  or  is  remembered  only  as  a  melancholy  example 
of  genius  perverted  and  a  vocation  mistaken.  “A 
Methodist!”  jested  the  godless  witlings  of  Brazennose; 
“A  Jacobin!”  reiterated  the  makers  of  silver  shrines ; 
“  A  ringleader  in  the  Gordon  Biots !”  said  the  Bomanists 
whose  errors  he  had  combated;  and  the  formalistic 
churclimanship  of  that  day  gathered  up  its  gentilities, 
smoothed  its  ruffled  fringes,  and  with  a  dowager’s  state¬ 
liness  flounced  by  “  on  the  other  side  and  reputable 
burghers,  the  u  canny  bodies  ”  of  the  time,  subsided  into 
their  own  respectabilities,  and  shook  their  heads  at 
every  mention  of  the  pestilent  fellow ;  but,  calm-browed 
and  liigh-souled,  John  Wesley  went  on  until  a  large 
portion  of  his  world-parish  rejoiced  in  his  light,  and 
wondered  at  its  luminous  and  ardent  flame.  And  if  it 
be  lawful  to  speak  of  the  Master  in  the  same  list  as  his 
disciples,  who,  however  excellent,  fall  immeasurably 
short  of  their  Divine  Pattern,  He  was  called  aNazarene, 
and  there  was  the  scorn  of  a  world  couched  in  the  con¬ 
temptuous  word. 

There  are  symptoms,  however,  of  returning  sanity. 
Judicial  ermine  and  arcliiepiscopal  lawn  robing  the  sons 
of  tradesmen,  and  the  blood  of  all  the  Montmorencies— 


304 


TDE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


fouled  by  mesalliance  with  crime — cooling  itself  in  a 
common  prison,  are  remarkable  signs  of  the  times. 
Men  are  begimiing  to  feel  conscious,  not,  perhaps,  that 
they  have  committed  a  crime,  but  that  they  have  been 
guilty  of  what  in  the  diplomacy  of  Talleyrand  was  con¬ 
sidered  worse — that  is,  a  blunder.  Whether  the  chivalry 
of  feudalism  be  extinct  or  not,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  the  villenage  of  feudalism  is  gone.  Common  men 
nowadays  question  the  wisdom  of  nobilities,  correct  the 
errors  of  cabinets,  and  do  not  even  listen  obsequiously 
to  catch  the  whispers  of  kings.  That  is  a  strong  and 
growing  world-feeling  which  the  poet  embodies  when 
he  sings: 


“Believe  us!  noble  Vere  de  Veres, 

From  yon  blue  heavens  above  us  bent, 

The  grand  old  gardener  and  his  wife 
Smile  at  the  claims  of  long  descent. 

Howe’er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me 
’Tis  only  noble  to  be  good — 

Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood.” 

Not  that  rank  has  lost  its  prestige,  nor  royalty  its 
honor.  Elevated  station  is  a  high  trust,  and  furnishes 
opportunity  for  extensive  usefulness.  The  coronet  may 
be  honored  or  despised  at  the  pleasure  of  the  wearer. 
When  the  rank  is  larger  than  the  man,  when  his  indi¬ 
viduality  is  shrouded  behind  a  hundred  coats-of-arms, 
when  he  has  so  much  of  the  blood  of  his  ancestors  in 
his  veins  that  there  is  no  room  for  any  generous  pluses 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


305 


of  bis  own,  why,  of  course,  he  must  find  his  own  level, 
and  be  content  to  be  admired,  like  any  other  piece  of 
confectionery,  by  occasional  passers-by ;  but  when  the 
noble  remembers  his  humanity,  and  has  sympathy  for 
the  erring  and  encouragement  for  the  sincere — • 

“  When,  all  the  trappings  freely  swept  away, 

The  man’s  great  nature  leaps  into  the  day,” 

his  nobility  men  are  not  slow  to  acknowledge— the  cap 
and  plume  bend  very  gracefully  over  the  sorrow  which 
they  succor,  and  the  jewelled  hand  is  blanched  into 
a  heavenlier  whiteness  when  it  beckons  a  struggling 
people  into  the  power  and  progress  of  the  coming  time. 
The  great  question  which  must  be  asked  of  any  new 
aspirer  who  would  mold  the  world’s  activities  to  his 
will,  is  not,  Whence  comes  he  ?  but,  What  is  he  ? 
There  may  be  some  semi-fossilized  relics  of  the  past 
who  will  continue  to  insinuate,  “Has  he  a  grand¬ 
father?”  But  the  great  world  of  the  earnest  and  of 
the  workers  thunders  out,  “  Has  he  a  soul  ?  Has  he 
a  lofty  purpose,  a  single  eye,  a  heart  of  power?  Has 
he  the  prophet’s  sanctity  and  inspiration,  as  well  as  his 
boldness  and  fervor  ?  ISTever  mind  the  bar  sinister  on 
his  escutcheon — has  he  no  bar  sinister  in  his  life  ?  Has 
he  a  giant’s  strength,  a  hero’s  courage,  a  child’s  simpli¬ 
city,  an  apostle’s  love,  a  martyr’s  will?  Then  is  he 
sufficiently  ennobled.”  If  I,  a  Gospel  charioteer,  meet 
him  as  he  essays,  trembling,  to  drive  into  the  world, 
what  must  be  my  salutation  ?  Art  thou  of  noble  blood  \ 


306 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 

Is  thy  retinue  large  ?  thy  banner  richly  emblazoned  ? 
thy  speech  plausible  ?  thy  purpose  fair  ?  No — but  “  Is 
thy  heart  right  ?”  If  it  be,  give  me  thy  hand. 

A  prominent  feature  in  the  Prophet’s  character,  one 
which  cannot  fail  to  impress  us  at  every  mention  of  his 
name,  is  his  singular  devotion  to  the  object  of  his  great 
mission.  He  was  sent  upon  the  earth  to  be  the  earth’s 
monitor  of  God.  This  was  his  life-purpose,  and  faith¬ 
fully  lie  fulfilled  it.  Rising  above  the  temptations  of 
sense — ready  at  the  bidding  of  his  Master  to  crucify 
natural  affection  —  sternly  repressing  the  sensibility 
which  might  interfere  with  duty ;  trampling  upon 
worldly  interest,  and  regardless  of  personal  aggrandize¬ 
ment  or  safety,  he  held  on  his  course,  unswerving  and 
untired,  to  the  end.  God  was  his  object  in  everything; 
to  glorify  God,  his  aim  ;  to  vindicate  God,  his  miracles ; 
to  speak  for  God,  his  message  ;  to  exhibit  God,  his  life. 
As  the  rod  of  Moses  swallowed  up  the  symbols  of 
Egyptian  wizardry,  so  did  this  consuming  passion  in 
Elijah  absorb  each  meaner  impulse,  and  each  low  de¬ 
sire.  His  decision  rarely  failed  him,  his  consistency 
never.  He  “halted  not  between  two  opinions.”  He 
spurned  alike  the  adulation  of  a  monarch  and  of  a  mob. 
He  neither  pandered  for  the  favor  of  a  court,  nor  made 
unworthy  compromise  with  the  idolaters  of  Baal. 
Heaven’s  high  remembrancer,  he  did  a  true  man’s 
work  in  a  true  man’s  way,  with  one  purpose  and  a 
“  united  ”  heart. 

Although  many  parts  of  this  character  cannot,  on 


IIIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


307 


account  of  bis  peculiar  vocation,  be  presented  for  our 
imitation,  in  bis  unity  of  purpose  and  of  effort  be  fur¬ 
nishes  us  with  a  noble  example.  This  oneness  of  prin¬ 
ciple — .freedom  from  tortuous  policy — the  direction  of 
the  energies  to  tlie  attainment  of  one  worthy  end 
appears  to  be  what  is  meant  in  Scripture  by  the  “  single 
eye,”  cltiaovc — not  complex — no  obliquity  in  the  vision 
— looking  straight  on — taking  in  one  object  at  one  time. 
And  if  we  look  into  the  lives  of  the  men  who  have  vin¬ 
dicated  their  right  to  be  held  in  the  world’s  memory, 
we  shall  find  that  all  their  actions  evolve  from  one  com¬ 
prehensive  principle,  and  converge  to  one  magnificent 
achievement.  Consider  the  primitive  apostles.  There 
you  have  twelve  men,  greatly  diverse  in  character, 
cherishing  each  his  own  taste  and  mode  of  working, 
laboring  in  different  localities,  and  bringing  the  one 
Gospel  to  bear  upon  different  classes  of  mind,  and  yet 
everywhere— in  proud  Jerusalem,  inquisitive  Ephesus, 
cultured  Athens,  voluptuous  Eome — meeting  after  many 
years  in  that  mightiest  result,  the  establishment  of  the 
kingdom  of  Christ.  Much  of  this  issue  is  of  course  due 
to  the  Gospel  itself,  or  rather  to  the  Divine  agency 
which  applied  it,  but  something  also  to  the  unity  of 
the  messengers,  their  sincere  purpose,  and  sustained 
endeavor.  And  so  it  is  in  the  case  of  all  who  have 
been  the  benefactors  of  mankind.  They  have  had 
some  master-purpose,  which  has  molded  all  others  into 
a  beautiful  subordination,  which  they  have  maintained 
amid  hazard  and  suffering,  and  which,  shrined  sacredly 


308 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


in  the  heart,  has  influenced  and  fashioned  the  life.  If 
a  man  allow  within  him  the  play  of  different  or  con¬ 
tradictory  purposes,  he  may,  in  a  lifetime,  pile  up  a 
head  of  gold,  a  breast  of  silver,  thighs  of  brass,  and 
feet  of  clay,  but  it  is  but  a  great  image  after  all.  It 
crumbles  at  the  first  touch  of  the  smiting  stone,  and, 
like  the  chaff  of  the  summer  threshing-floor,  its  frag¬ 
ments  are  helpless  on  the  wind.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
a  man’s  doings  grow  out  of  one  and  the  same  spirit, 
and  that  spirit  be  consecrated  to  holy  endeavor,  they 
will  interpenetrate  and  combine  into  beneficent  achieve¬ 
ment,  and  stand  out  a  life-giving  and  harmonious  whole. 
This  oneness  of  design  for  which  we  contend,  is  distinct¬ 
ive  of  the  highest  developments  of  the  whole  family  of 
genius.  A  book  may  run  through  many  editions,  and 
fascinate  many  reviewers,  but  it  must  be  informed  by 
one  spirit,  new  correspondences  must  be  revealed  to  the 
aesthetic  eye,  and  it  must  appear  “  in  the  serene  com¬ 
pleteness  of  artistic  unity,”  ere  it  can  settle  down  to  be 
a  household  word  in  the  family,  or  a  hidden  treasure  in 
the  heart.  In  whatever  department  “  the  beauty-mak¬ 
ing  Power”  has  wrought — in  the  bodiless  thought,  or 
in  the  breathing  marble ;  in  the  chef-d' oeuvres  of  the 
artist,  or  in  the  conceptions  of  the  architect ;  'whether 
Praxiteles  chisels,  Raffaelle  paints,  Shakspeare  deline¬ 
ates,  or  Milton  sings — there  is  the  same  singleness  of 
the  animating  spirit.  Hamlet,  Paradise  Lost,  and  Fes- 
tus  ;  the  Greek  Slave,  and  the  Madonna  ;  the  Coliseum 
and  Westminster  Abbey  ;  are  they  not,  each  in  its  kind, 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


309 


creations  to  which  nothing  can  be  added  with  advan¬ 
tage,  and  from  which,  without  damage,  nothing  can  be 

taken  away  ? 

And  of  that  other  Book — our  highest  literature,  as 
well  as  our  unerring  law — the  glorious,  world-subduing 
Bible,  do  we  not  feel  the  same?  In  its  case  the 
experiment  has  been  tried.  The  Apocryphal  has  been 
bound  up  with  the  Inspired,  like  “wood,  hay,  and 
stubble,”  loading  the  rich  fret-work  of  a  stately  pile,  or 
the  clumsy  work  of  an  apprentice  superadded  to  the 
finish  of  a  master.  Doubtless  instruction  may  be 
gathered  from  it,  but  how  it  “  pales  its  ineffectual  flies 
before  the  splendor  of  the  Word  !  It  is  unfortunate  for 
it  that  they  have  been  brought  into  contact.  We 
might  be  grateful  for  the  gas-lamp  at  eventide,  but  it 
were  grievous  folly  to  light  it  up  at  noon.  As  in 
science,  literature,  art,  so  it  is  in  character.  We  can 
wrap  up  in  a  word  the  object  of  “  the  world  s  foster 
gods  to  bear  witness  for  Jehovah— to  extend  Clinst- 
i unity — to  disinter  the  truth  for  Europe  to  “spread 
Scriptural  holiness”— to  humanize  prison  discipline— to 
abolish  slavery— these  are  soon  told  ;  but  if  you  unfold 
each  word,  you  have  the  life-labor  of  Elijah,  Paul, 
Luther,  Wesley,  Howard,  Wilberforce— the  inner  man 
of  each  heart  laid  open,  with  its  hopes,  joys,  feais, 
anxieties,  ventures,  faiths,  conflicts,  triumphs,  in  the 
long  round  of  weary  and  of  wasting  years. 

Look  at  this  oneness  of  principle  embodied  m  action. 
See  it  in  Martin  Luther.  He  has  a  purpose,  that  miner's 


310  THE  prophet  of  horeb, 

son.  That  purpose  is  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
He  exhausts  speedily  the  resources  of  Mansfield  ;  reads 
hard,  and  devours  the  lectures  at  Madgeburg ;  chants 
in  the  hours  of  recreation,  like  the  old  Minnesingers,  in 
streets,  for  bread ;  sits  at  the  feet  of  Trebonius  in  the 
college  at  Eisenach ;  enters  as  a  student  at  Erfurt,  and 
at  the  age  of  eighteen,  has  outstripped  his  fellows,  has  a 
University  for  his  admirer,  and  professors  predicting  for 
him  the  most  successful  career  of  the  age.  He  has  a 
■ purpose ,  that  Scholar  of  Erfurt.  That  purpose  is  the 
discovery  of  truth,  for  in  the  old  library  he  has  stumbled 
on  a  Bible.  Follow  him  out  into  the  new  world  which 
that  volume  has  flashed  upon  his  soul.  With  Pilate’s 
question  on  his  lip  and  in  his  heart,  he  foregoes  his  bril¬ 
liant  prospect — parts  without  a  sigh  with  academical 
distinction — takes  monastic  vows  in  an  Augustine  con¬ 
vent — becomes  the  watchman  and  sweeper  of  the 
place — goes  a  mendicant  friar,  with  the  convent’s 
begging-bag,  to  the  houses  where  he  had  been  wel¬ 
comed  as  a  friend,  or  had  starred  it  as  a  lion — wastes 
himself  with  voluntary  penances  well-nigh  to  the 
grave — studies  the  Fathers  intensely,  but  can  get  no 
light — pores  over  the  Book  itself,  with  scales  upon  his 
eyes — catches  a  dim  streak  of  auroral  brightness,  but 
leaves  Erfurt  before  the  glorious  dawn — until  at  last,  in 
his  cell  at  Wittemberg,  on  his  bed  of  languishing  at 
Bologna,  and  finally  at  Borne — Pilate’s  question  an¬ 
swered  upon  Pilate’s  stairs — there  comes  the  thrice- 
repeated  Gospel-whisper,  “The  just  shall  live  by  faith,” 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


311 


and  the  glad  Evangel  scatters  the  darkening  and  shreds 
off  the  paralysis,  and  he  rises  into  moral  freedom,  a  new 
man  unto  the  Lord  !  He  has  a  purpose,  that  Augustine 
monk.  That  purpose  is  the  Reformation!  "Waiting 
with  the  modesty  of  the  hero,  until  he  is  forced  into  the 
strife,  with  the  courage  of  the  hero  he  steps  into  the 
breach  to  do  battle  for  the  living  truth.  Tardy  in 
forming  his  resolve,  he  is  brave  in  his  adhesion  to  it. 
Not  like  Erasmus,  “  holding  the  truth  in  unrighteous¬ 
ness,”  with  a  clear  head  and  a  craven  heart — not  like 
Carlstadt,  hanging  upon  a  grand  principle  the  tatters 
of  a  petty  vanity— not  like  Seckingen,  a  wielder  of  car¬ 
nal  weapons,  clad  in  glowing  mail,  instead  of  the  armor 
of  righteousness  and  the  weapon  of  all  prayer — but 
bold,  disinterested,  spiritual — he  stands  before  us  God- 
prepared  and  God-upheld — that  valiant  Luther,  who,  in 
his  opening  prime,  amazed  the  Cardinal  de  Wo  by  his 
fearless  avowal,  “Had  I  five  heads  I  would  lose  them 
all  rather  than  retract  the  testimony  which  I  have 
borne  for  Christ” — that  incorruptible  Luther,  whom  the 
Pope’s  nuncio  tried  in  vain  to  bribe,  and  of  whom  he 
wrote  in  his  spleen  :  “  This  German  beast  has  no  regard 
for  gold  ” — that  inflexible  Luther,  who,  when  told  that 
the  fate  of  John  Huss  would  probably  await  him  at 
Worms,  said  calmly,  “Were  they  to  make  a  fire  that 
would  extend  from  Worms  to  Wittemberg,  and  reach 
even  to  the  sky,  I  would  walk  across  it  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord”  —  that  triumphant  Luther,  who,  in  his 
honored  age,  sat  in  the  cool  shadow  and  ’mid  the 


312 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


purple  vintage  of  the  tree  himself  had  planted,  and 
after  a  stormful  sojourn,  scaped  the  toils  of  the  hunters, 
and  died  peacefully  in  his  bed — that  undying  Luther, 
“  who,  being  dead,  yet  speaketh,”  the  mention  of  whose 
name  rouses  the  ardor  of  the  manly,  and  quickens  the 
pulses  of  the  free ;  wffiose  spirit  yet  stirs,  like  a  clarion, 
the  great  heart  of  Christendom ;  and  whose  very  bones 
have  so  marvellous  a  virtue,  that,  like  the  bones  of 
Elisha,  if  on  them  were  stretched  the  corpse  of  an  effete 
Protestantism,  they  would  surely  wake  it  into  life  to  the 
honor  and  glory  of  God  ! 

But  we  must  not  forget,  as  we  are  in  some  danger  of 
doing,  that  we  must  draw  our  illustrations  mainly  from 
the  life  of  Elijah.  We  have  before  affirmed  that  unity 
of  purpose  and  consistency  of  effort  were  leading 
features  in  his  character,  but  look  at  them  in  action, 
especially  as  displayed  in  the  great  scene  of  Carmel. 
Call  up  that  scene  before  you,  with  all  its  adjuncts  of 
grandeur  and  of  power.  The  summit  of  the  fertile 
hill,  meet  theatre  for  so  glorious  a  tragedy ;  the  idola¬ 
trous  priests,  with  all  the  pompous  ensigns  of  their  idol- 
worship,  confronted  by  that  solitary  but  princely  man — 
the  gathered  and  anxious  multitude — the  deep  silence 
following  on  the  prophet’s  question — the  appeal  to  fire 
— the  protracted  invocation  of  Baal — the  useless  incan¬ 
tations  and  barbaric  rites,  “  from  morning  even  until 
noon,  and  from  noon  until  the  time  of  the  offering  of 
the  evening  sacrifice;”  the  solemn  sarcasm  of  Elijah  ; 
the  building  of  the  altar  of  unfurnished  stone — the 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


313 


drenching  and  surrounding  it  with,  water,  strangest  of 
all  strange  preparations  for  a  burnt-sacrifice — the  sky 
reddening  as  if  it  blushed  at  the  folly  of  the  priests  of 
Baal — the  sun  sloping  slowly  to  the  west,  and  falling 
aslant  upon  the  pale  faces  of  that  unweary  multitude, 
rapt  in  fixed  attention,  patient,  stern,  unhungering — the 
high  accents  of  holy  prayer — the  solemn  pause,  agon¬ 
izing  from  its  depth  of  feeling — the  falling  flame,  “  a 
fire  of  intelligence  and  power” — the  consuming  of  all 
the  materials  of  the  testimony — and  that  mighty 
triumph-shout,  rolling  along  the  plain  of  Sharon, 
waking  the  echoes  of  the  responsive  mountains,  and 
thrilling  over  the  sea  with  an  eloquence  grander  than 
its  own  ;  there  it  stands — that  scene  in  its  entireness — 
most  wonderful  even  in  a  history  of  wonders,  and  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  and  conclusive  forthputtings  of 
Jehovah’s  power!  But  abstract  your  contemplations 
now  from  the  miraculous  interposition,  and  look  at  the 
chief  actor  in  the  scene.  How  calm  he  is  !  JIow  still 
amid  that  swaying  multitude !  They,  agitated  by  a 
thousand  emotions — he,  self-reliant,  patient,  brave ! 
Priests  mad  with  malice — people  wild  in  wonder — an 
ominous  frown  darkening  the  royal  brow — Elijah  alone 
unmoved  !  Whence  this  self-possession  ?  What  occult 
principle  so  mightily  sustains  him?  There  was,  of 
*  course,  unfaltering  dependence  upon  God.  But  there 
was  also  the  consciousness  of  integrity  of  purpose,  and 
of  a  heart  “  at  one.”  There  was  no  recreancy  in  the 

soul.  He  had  not  been  the  passive  observer,  nor  the 

14 


314 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


guilty  conniver  at  sin.  lie  had  not  trodden  softly,  lest 
he  should  shock  Allah’s  prejudices  or  disturb  his  repose. 
He  had  not  shared  in  the  carnivals  of  Jezebel’s  table. 
He  had  not  preserved  a  dastardly  neutrality.  Every 
one  knew  him  to  be  “  on  the  Lord’s  side.”  His  heart 
was  always  in  tune ;  like  Memnon’s  harp,  it  trembled 
into  melody  at  every  breath  of  heaven. 

With  these  examples  before  us,  it  behooves  us  to  ask 
ourselves,  Have  we  a  purpose  ?  Elijah  and  Luther  may 
be  marks  too  high  for  us.  Do  not  let  us  affect  knight- 
errantry,  couch  the  lance  at  wind-mills  to  prove  our 
valor,  or  mistake  sauciness  for  sanctity,  and  impudence 
for  inspiration.  It  is  not  probable  that  our  mission  is 
to  beard  unfaithful  royalties,  or  to  pull  down  the 
edifices  which  are  festooned  with  the  associations  of 
centuries.  But  in  the  sphere  of  each  of  us — in  the 
marts  of  commerce,  in  the  looms  of  labor — while  the 
sun  is  climbing  hotly  up  the  sky,  and  the  race  of 
human  pursuits  and  competitions  is  going  vigorously 
on,  there  is  work  enough  for  the  sincere  and  honest 
workman.  The  sphere  for  personal  improvement  was 
never  so  large.  To  brace  the  body  for  service  or  for 
suffering — to  bring  it  into  subjection  to  the  control  of 
the  master-faculty — to  acquaint  the  mind  with  all 
wisdom — to  hoard,  with  miser’s  care,  every  fragment 
of  beneficial  knowledge — to  twine  the  beautiful  around 
the  true,  as  the  acanthus  leaf  around  the  Corinthian 
pillar — to  quell  the  sinward  propensities  of  the  nature 
— to  evolve  the  soul  into  the  completeness  of  its  moral 


/ 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS.  315 

manhood— -to  have  the  passions  in  harness,  and  firmly 
curb  them — “  to  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly  ” — to 
strive  after  “  that  mind  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus” 

_ bere  is  a  field  of  labor  wide  enough  for  the  most 

resolute  will.  The  sphere  of  beneficent  activity  was 
never  so  large.  To  infuse  the  leaven  of  purity  into  the 
disordered  masses — to  thaw  the  death-frost  trom  the 
heart  of  the  misanthrope — to  make  the  treacherous  one 
faithful  to  duty — to  open  the  world’s  dim  eye  to  the 
majesty  of  conscience — to  gather  and  instinct  the  01- 
phans  bereft  of  a  father’s  blessing  and  of  a  mother’s 
prayer — to  care  for  the  outcast  and  abandoned,  who 
have  drunk  in  iniquity  with  their  mother’s  milk,  whom 
the  priest  and  the  Levite  have  alike  passed  by,  and  who 
have  been  forced  in  the  hotbed  of  poverty  into  prema¬ 
ture  luxuriance  of  evil ;  here  is  labor,  which  may 
employ  a  man’s  whole  lifetime,  and  his  whole  soul. 
Young  men,  are  you  working  ?  Have  you  gone  forth 
into  the  harvest-field  bearing  precious  seed  ?  Alas  ! 
perhaps*  some  of  you  are  yet  resting  in  the  conven¬ 
tional,  that  painted  charnel  which  has  tombed  many  a 
manhood ;  grasping  eagerly  your  own  social  advan¬ 
tages  ;  gyved  by  a  dishonest  expediency ;  not  doing  a 
good  lest  it  should  be  evil  spoken  of,  nor  daring  a  faith 
lest  the  scoffer  should,  frown.  With  two  worlds  to 
work  in— the  world  of  the  heart,  with  its  many-pliased 
and  wondrous  life,  and  the  world  around,  with  its 
problems  waiting  for  solution,  and  its  contradictions 
panting  for  the  liarmonizer — you  are,  perhaps,  en- 


316  the  tkophet  of  horeb, 

chained  in  the  island  of  Calypso,  thralled  by  its 
blandishments,  emasculated  by  its  enervating  air.  O, 
for  some  strong-armed  Mentor  to  thrust  you  over  the 
cliff,  and  strain  with  you  among  the  buffeting  waves ! 
Brothers,  let  us  be  men.  Let  us  bravely  fling  off  our 
chains.  If  we  can  not  be  commanding,  let  us  at  least 
be  sincere.  Let  our  earnestness  amend  our  incapacity. 
Let  ours  not  be  a  life  of  puerile  inanities  or  obsequious 
Mammon-worship.  Let  us  look  through  the  pliant 
neutral  in  his  hollowness,  and  the  churlish  miser  in  his 
greed,  and  let  us  go  and  do  otherwise  than  they.  Let 
us  not  be  ingrates  while  Heaven  is  generous,  idlers 
while  earth  is  active,  slumberers  while  eternity  is  near. 
Let  us  have  a  purpose,  and  let  that  purpose  be  one. 
Without  a  central  principle  all  will  be  in  disorder. 
Ithaca  is  misgoverned,  Penelope  beset  by  clamorous 
suitors,  Telemaclius  in  peril,  all  because  Ulysses  is 
away.  Let  the  Ulysses  of  the  soul  return,  let  the 
governing  principle  exert  its  legitimate  authority,  and 
the  happy  suitors  of  appetite  and  sense  shall  be  slain — 
the  heart,  married  to  the  truth,  shall  retain  its  fidelity 
to  its  bridalvow,  and  the  eldest-born,  a  purpose  of 
valor  and  of  wisdom,  shall  carve  its  highway  to  renown, 
and  achieve  its  deeds  of  glory.  Aim  at  this  singleness 
of  eye.  Abhor  a  life  of  self-contradictions,  as  a 
grievous  wrong  done  to  an  immortal  nature.  And 
thus,  having  a  purpose — one  purpose — a  worthy  pur¬ 
pose — you  cannot  toil  in  vain.  Work  in  the  inner — it 
will  tell  upon  the  outer  world.  Purify  your  own  heart 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


317 


_ _ you  will  have  a  reformative  power  on  the  neighbor¬ 
hood.  Shrine  the  truth  within— it  will  attract  many 
pilgrims.  Kindle  the  vestal  tire — it  will  ray  out  a  life- 
giving  light.  Have  the  mastery  over  your  own  spirit — 
you  will  go  far  to  he  a  world-subduer.  Oh,  if  there  he 
one  here  whowould  up  lift  himself  or  advance  his 
fellows,  who  would  do  his  brother  “  a  good  which  shall 
live  after  him,”  or  enroll  himself  among  the  bene¬ 
factors  of  mankind,  to  him  we  say,  Cast  out  of  thyself 
all  that  loveth  and  maketh  a  lie— hate  every  false  way 
— set  a  worthy  object  before  thee — work  at  it  with  both 
hands,  an  open  heart,  an  earnest  will,  and  a  firm  faith, 
and  then  go  on — 

“Onward,  while  a  wrong  remains 
To  be  conquered  by  the  right, 

While  Oppression  lifts  a  finger 
To  affront  us  by  his  might. 

While  an  error  clouds  the  reason, 

Or  a  sorrow  gnaws  the  heart, 

Or  a  slave  awaits  his  freedom, 

Action  is  the  wise  man’s  part!” 


The  Prophet’s  consistency  of  purpose,  his  calmness  in 
the  time  of  danger,  and  his  marvellous  success,  require, 
however,  some  further  explanation,  and  that  explanation 
is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  he  was  a  man  of  prayer. 
Prayer  was  the  forerunner  of  his  every  action  the 
grace  of  supplication  prepared  him  for  his  mightiest 
deeds.  Whatever  was  his  object — to  seal  or  to  open  the 
fountains  of  heaven — to  evoke  the  obedient  fire  on  Car- 


318 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 

mel — to  slied  joy  over  the  bereft  household  of  the 
Sareptan  widow — to  bring  down  “  forks  of  flame  ”  upon 
the  captains  and  their  fifties — there  was  always  the 
solemn  and  the  earnest  prayer.  Tislibe,  Zarephath, 
Carmel,  Jezreel,  Gilgal — he  had  his  oratory  in  them  all. 
And  herein  lay  the  secret  of  his  strength.  The  moun 
tain-closet  emboldened  him  for  the  mountain-altar. 
While  the  winged  birds  were  providing  for  his  body,  the 
winged  prayers  were  strengthening  his  soul.  In  answer 
to  his  entreaties  in  secret,  the  whole  armor  of  God  was 
at  his  service,  and  he  buckled  the  breastplate,  and 
braced  the  girdle,  and  strapped  on  the  sandals,  and 
stepped  forth  from  his  closet  a  hero,  and  men  knew  that 
he  had  been  in  Jehovah’s  presence-chamber  from  the 
glory  which  lingered  on  his  brow. 

How,  as  man  is  to  be  contemplated,  not  only  in  re¬ 
ference  to  time,  but  in  reference  to  eternity,  thi§  habit 
of  prayer  is  necessary  to  the  completeness  of  his  charac¬ 
ter.  If  the  present  were  his  all — if  his  life  were  to  shape 
itself  only  amid  surrounding  complexities  of  good  or 
evil — if  he  had  merely  to  impress  his  individuality  upon 
his  age,  and  then  die  and  be  forgotten,  or  in  the  veiled 
future  have  no  living  and  conscious  concern ;  then,  in¬ 
deed,  self-confidence  might  be  his  highest  virtue,  self- 
will  his  absolute  law,  self-aggrandizement  his  supremest 
end.  But  as,  beyond  the  present,  there  lies,  in  all  its 
solemness,  eternity ;  as  the  world  to  which  we  are  all 
hastening  is  a  world  of  result,  discovery,  fruition,  recom¬ 
pense  ;  as  an  impartial  register  chronicles  our  lives,  that 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


319 


a  rigliteous  retribution  may  follow,  our  dependence 
upon  God  must  be  felt  and  recognized,  and  there  must 
be  some  medium  through  which  to  receive  the  com¬ 
munications  of  his  will.  This  medium  is  furnished  to 
us  in  prayer.  It  has  been  ordained  by  himself  as  a 
condition  of  strength  and  blessing,  and  all  who  are  under 
his  authority  are  under  binding  obligations  to  pray. 

Young  men,  you  have  been  exhorted  to  aspire.  Self- 
reliance  has  been  commended  to  you  as  a  grand  element 
of  character.  We  would  echo  these  counsels.  They 
are  counsels  of  wisdom.  But  to  be  safe  and  to  be  per¬ 
fect,  you  must  connect  with  them  the  spirit  of  prayer. 
Emulation,  unchastened  by  any  higher  principle,  is  to 
our  perverted  nature  very  often  a  danger  and  an  evil. 
The  love  of  distinction,  not  of  truth  and  right,  becomes 
the  master-passion  of  the  soul,  and  instead  ot  high-reach¬ 
ing  labor  after  good,  there  comes  Y anity  with  its  paro¬ 
dies  of  excellence,  or  mad  Ambition  shrinking  from  no 
enormity  in  its  cupidity  or  lust  of  power.  Self-reliance, 
in  a  heart  unsanctified,  often  gives  place  to  Self-confi¬ 
dence,  its  base-born  brother.  Under  its  unfriendly  rule 
there  rise  up  in  the  soul  over-weening  estimate  of  sell, 
inveteracy  of  evil  habit,  impatience  of  restraint  or  con¬ 
trol,  the  disposition  to  lord  it  over  others,  and  that 
dogged  and  repulsive  obstinacy,  which,  like  the  dead 
fly  in  the  ointment,  throws  an  ill  savor  over  the  entire 
character  of  the  man.  These  are  smaller  manifestations, 
but,  in  congenial  soil,  and  with  commensurate  oppor¬ 
tunities,  it  blossoms  out  into  some  of  the  worst  forms  ot 


320 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


humanity — the  ruffian,  who  is  the  terror  of  his  neighbor¬ 
hood  ;  the  tyrant,  who  has  an  appetite  for  blood ;  the 
atheist,  who  denies  his  God.  Now,  the  habit  of  prayer 
will  afford  to  these  principles  the  salutary  check  which 
they  need.  It  will  sanctify  emulation,  and  make  it  a 
virtue  to  aspire.  It  will  curb  the  excesses  of  ambition, 
and  keep  down  the  vauntings  of  unholy  pride.  The 
man  will  aim  at  the  highest,  but  in  the  spirit  of  the 
lowest,  and  prompted  by  the  thought  of  immortality — 
not  the  loose  immortality  of  the  poet’s  dream,  but  the 
substantial  immortality  of  the  Christian’s  hope — he  will 
travel  on  to  his  reward.  In  like  manner  will  the  habit 
of  prayer  chasten  and  consecrate  the  principle  of  self- 
reliance.  It  will  preserve,  intact,  all  its  enterprise  and 
bravery.  It  will  bate  not  a  jot  of  its  original  strength 
and  freedom,  but,  wdien  it  would  wanton  out  into  inso¬ 
lence  and  pride,  it  will  restrain  it  by  the  consciousness 
of  a  higher  power ;  it  will  shed  over  the  man  the  meek¬ 
ness  and  gentleness  of  Christ,  and  it  will  show,  existing 
in  the  same  nature  and  in  completest  harmony,  indomit¬ 
able  courage  in  the  arena  of  the  world,  and  loyal  sub¬ 
mission  to  the  authority  of  Heaven.  Many  noble 
examples  have  attested  how  this  infier  life  of  heaven — 
combining  the  heroic  and  the  gentle,  softening  without 
enfeebling  the  character,  preparing  either  for  action  or 
endurance — has  shed  its  power  over  the  outer  life  of 
earth.  IIow  commanding  is  the  attitude  of  Paul  from 
the  time  of  his  conversion  to  the  truth  !  What  courage 
he  has,  encountering  the  Epicurean  and  Stoical  philoso- 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


321 


pliers,  revealing  tlie  unknown  God  to  the  multitude  at 
Athens,  making  tlie  false-liearted  Felix  tremble,  and 
almost  constraining  the  pliable  Agrippa  to  decision ; 
standing,  silver-haired  and  solitary,  before  the  bar  of 
ISTero;  dying  a  martyr  for  the  loved  name  of  Jesus! 
that  heroism  was  born  in  the  solitude  where  he  im¬ 
portunately  “  besought  the  Lord.”  “  In  Luther’s  closet, 
says  D’Aubigne,  “we  have  the  secret  of  the  Reforma¬ 
tion.”  The  Puritans— those  “  men  of  whom  the  world 
was  not  worthy” — to  whom  we  owe  immense,  but 
scantily-acknowledged,  obligations — how  kept  they  their 
fidelity  1  Tracked  through  wood  and  wild,  the  baying 
of  the  fierce  sleuth-hound  breaking  often  upon  their 
sequestered  worship,  their  prayer  wras  the  talisman 
which  “  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  and  quenched  the 
violence  of  fire.”  You  cannot  have  forgotten  how 
exquisitely  the  efficacy  of  prayer  is  presented  in  our 
second  book  of  Proverbs : 

“  Behold  that  fragile  form  of  delicate,  transparent  beauty, 

Whose  light-blue  eye  and  hectic  cheek  are  lit  by  the  bale-fires  of 
decline ; 

Hath  not  thy  heart  said  of  her,  Alas !  poor  child  of  weakness  ! 

Thou  hast  erred  ;  Goliath  of  Gath  stood  not  in  half  her  strength . 

For  the  serried  ranks  of  evil  are  routed  by  the  lightning  of  her  eye ; 
Seraphim  rally  at  her  side,  and  the  captain  of  that  host  is  God, 

For  that  weak,  fluttering  heart  is  strong  in  faith  assured— 

Dependence  is  her  might,  and  behold — she  prayeth.”  * 

Desolate,  indeed,  is  the  spirit,  like  the  hills  of  Gilboa, 

*  Tupper’s  “  Proverbial  Philosophy,”  of  Prayer,  p.  109. 

14* 


322  T0E  prophet  of  horeb, 

reft  of  the  precious  things  of  heaven,  if  it  never  prays. 
Do  you  pray  ?  Is  the  fire  burning  upon  that  secret 
altar  ?  Do  you  go  to  the  closet  as  a  duty  ?  linger  in  it 
as  a  privilege  ?  What  is  that  you  say  ?  There  is  a 
scoffer  in  the  same  place  of  business  with  you,  and  he 
tells  you  it  is  cowardly  to  bow  the  knee,  and  he  jeers 
you  about  being  kept  in  leading-strings,  and  urges  you 
to  avow  your  manliness,  and  as  he  is  your  room-mate, 
you  have  been  ashamed  to  pray  before  him ;  and, 
moreover,  he  seems  so  cheerful,  and  resolute,  and  brave, 
that  his  words  have  made  some  impression  ?  What ! 
he  brave  ?  lie  who  gave  up  the  journey  the  other  day 
because  he  lucklessly  discovered  it  was  Friday;  he  who 
lost  his  self-possession  at  the  party  because  “  the  salt 
was  spilt — to  him  it  fell he  'who,  wdienever  friends 
solicit  and  the  tempter  plies,  is  afraid  to  say  no ;  he 
who  dares  not  for  his  life  look  into  his  own  heart,  for  he 
fancies  it  a  haunted  house,  with  goblins  perched  on 
every  landing  to  pale  the  cheek  and  blench  the 
courage ;  he  a  brave  man  ?  Oh !  to  your  knees,  young 
man  ;  to  your  knees,  that  the  cowardice  may  be  for¬ 
given  and  forgotten.  There  is  no  bravery  in  blas¬ 
phemy,  there  is  no  dastardliness  in  godly  fear.  It  is 
prayer  which  strengthens  the  weak,  and  makes  the 
strong  man  stronger.  Happy  are  you,  if  it  is  your 
habit  and  your  privilege.  You  can  offer  it  anywhere. 
In  the  crowded  mart  or  busy  street ;  flying  along  the 
gleaming  line  ;  sailing  upon  the  wide  waters ;  out  in  the 
broad  world  ;  in  the  strife  of  sentiment  and  passion ;  in 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


323 


the  whirlwind  of  battle  5  at  the  festival  and  at  the 
funeral;  if  the  frost  braces  the  spirit  or  the  fog 
depresses  it ;  if  the  clouds  are  heavy  on  the  earth,  or 
the  sunshine  fills  it  with  laughter ;  when  the  dew  is 
damp  upon  the  grass,  or  when  the  lightning  flashes  in 
the  sky;  in  the  matins  of  sunrise  or  the  vespers  of 
nightfall ;  let  but  the  occasion  demand  it,  let  the  need 
be  felt,  let  the  soul  be  imperilled,  let  the  enemy  threaten, 
happy  are  you,  for  you  can  pray. 

We  learn  from  the  prophet’s  history  that  God's  dis¬ 
cipline  for  usefulness  is  frequently  a  discipline  of 
trouble.  His  enforced  banishment  to  the  brook  Cherith ; 
his  struggles  in  that  solitude,  with  the  unbelief  which 
would  fear  for  the  daily  sustenance,  and  with  the  sel¬ 
fishness  which  would  fret  and  pine  for  the  acti\  ities  of 
life  ;  Aliab’s  bloodthirsty  and  eager  search  for  him,  of 
which  he  would  not  fail  to  hear  ;  J ezebel’s  subsequent 
and  bitterer  persecution  ;  the  apparent  failure  ot  his 
endeavors  for  the  reformation  of  Israel ;  the  forty  da}  s 
fasting  in  the  wilderness  of  Horeb — all  these  were 
parts  of  one  grand  disciplinary  process,  by  which  he 
was  made  ready  for  the  Lord,  fitted  for  the  triumph  on 
Carmel,  for  the  still  voice  on  the  mountain,  and  for  the 
ultimate  occupancy  ot  the  chariot  of  fire.  It  is  a  bene¬ 
ficent  arrangement  of  Providence,  that  u  the  divinity 
which  shapes  our  ends  ”  weaves  our  sorrows  into  ele¬ 
ments  of  character,  and  that  all  the  disappointments  and 
conflicts  to  which  the  living  are  subject— the  afflictions, 
physical  and  mental,  personal  and  relative,  which  aie 


324 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB. 


the  common  lot — may,  rightly  used,  become  means  of 
improvement,  and  create  in  ns  sinews  of  strength. 
Trouble  is  a  marvellous  mortifier  of  pride,  and  an 
effectual  restrainer  of  self-will.  Difficulties  string  up 
the  energies  to  loftier  effort,  and  intensity  is  gained 
from  repression.  By  sorrow  the  temper  is  mellowed, 
and  the  feeling  is  refined.  "When  suffering  has  broken 
up  the  soil,  and  made  the  furrows  soft,  there  can  be 
implanted  the  hardy  virtues  which  out-brave  the  storm. 
In  short,  trial  is  God’s  glorious  alchemistry,  by  which 
the  dross  is  left  in  the  crucible,  the  baser  metals  are 
transmuted,  and  the  character  is  riched  with  the  gold. 
It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  examples  of  the  singular 
efficacy  of  trouble  as  a  course  of  discipline.  Look  at 
the  history  of  God’s  chosen  people.  A  king  arose  in 
Egypt  “which  knew  not  Joseph,”  and  his  harsh 
tyranny  drove  the  Hebrews  from  their  land  of  Goshen, 
and  made  them  the  serfs  of  an  oppressive  bondage. 
The  iron  entered  into  their  souls.  For  years  they 
remained  in  slavery,  until  in  his  own  good  time  God 
arose  to  their  help,  and  brought  them  out  “  with  a  high 
hand  and  with  a  stretched-out  arm.”  We  do  not 
mean,  of  all  things,  to  make  apologies  for  Pharaoh  and 
his  task-masters,  but  we  do  mean  to  say  that  that  bond¬ 
age  was,  in  many  of  its  results,  a  blessing,  and  that  the 
Israelite,  building  the  treasure-cities,  and,  perhaps,  the 
Pyramids,  was  a  very  different  and  a  very  superior 
being  to  the  Israelite,  inexperienced  and  ease-loving, 
who  fed  his  flocks  in  Goshen.  God  overruled  that  cap- 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


325 


tivity,  and  made  it  the  teacher  of  many  important  les¬ 
sons.  They  had  been  hitherto  a  host  of  families ;  they 
were  to  he  exalted  into  a  nation.  There  was  to  he  a 
transition  effected  from  the  simplicity  of  the  patiiaiclial 
government  and  clanship  to  the  superb  theoci  acy  of  the 
Levitical  economy.  Egypt  was  the  school  in  which 
they  were  to  he  trained  for  Canaan,  and  in  Egypt  they 
were  taught,  although  reluctant  and  indocile  learners, 
the  forms  of  civil  government,  the  theory  of  subordina¬ 
tion  and  order,  and  the  arts  and  habits  of  civilized  life. 
Hence,  when  God  gave  his  laws  on  Sinai,  those  laws  fell 
upon  the  ears  of  a  prepared  people  ;  even  in  the  desert 
they  could  fabricate  the  trappings  of  the  temple  service, 
and  engrave  the  mystic  characters  upon  the  “  gems 
oracular  ”  which  flashed  upon  the  breastplate  of  the 
High  Priest  of  God.  The  long  exile  in  the  wilderness 
of  Midian  was  the  chastening  by  .which  Moses  was 
instructed,  and  the  impetuosity  of  his  temper  mellowed 
and  subdued,  so  that  he  who,  in  his  youthful  hatred  of 
oppression,  slew  the  Egyptian,  became  in  his  age  the 
meekest  man,  the  much-enduring  and  patient  lawgiver. 
A  very  notable  instance  of  the  influence  of  difficulty  and 
failure  in  rousing  the  energies  and  carrying  them  on  to 
success,  has  been  furnished  in  our  own  times.  Of 
course  we  refer  to  this  case  in  this  one  aspect  only, 
altogether  excluding  any  expression  as  to  the  merit  or 
demerit  of  the  man.  There  will  probably  be  two 
opinions  about  him,  and  those  widely  differing,  in  this 
assembly.  We  are  not  presenting  him  as  an  example, 


326  THE  PKOPHET  OF  HOKEB, 

but  as  an  illustration — save  in  the  matter  of  steady  and 
persevering  purpose — and  in  this,  if  he  be  even  an  oppo¬ 
nent,  Fas  est  ab  hoste  doceri. 

In  the  year  1837,  a  young  member,  oriental  alike  in 
his  lineage  and  in  his  fancy,  entered  Parliament,  chi¬ 
valrously  panting  for  distinction  in  that  intellectual 
arena.  lie  was  already  known  as  a  successful  three- 
volumer,  and  his  party  were  ready  to  hail  him  as  a 
promising  auxiliary.  Under  these  auspices  he  rose  to 
make  his  maiden  speech.  But  he  had  made  a  grand 
mistake.  He  had  forgotten  that  the  figures  of  St. 
Stephen’s  are  generally  arithmetical,  and  that  super¬ 
fluity  of  words,  except  in  certain  cases,  is  regarded  as 
superfluity  of  naughtiness.  He  set  out  with  the  inten¬ 
tion  to  dazzle,  but  country  gentlemen  object  to  be 
dazzled,  save  on  certain  conditions.  They  must  be 
allowed  to  prepare  Biemselves  for  the  shock,  they  must 
have  due  notice  beforehand,  and  the  operation  must  be 
performed  by  an  established  parliamentary  favorite. 
In  this  case  all  these  conditions  were  wanting.  The 
speaker  was  a  parvenu.  He  took  them  by  surprise, 
and  he  pelted  them  with  tropes  like  hail.  Hence  he 
had  not  gone  far  before  there  were  signs  of  impatience  ; 
by  and  by  the  ominous  cry  of  “  Question,”  then  came 
some  parliamentary  extravagance,  met  by  derisive 
cheers ;  cachinnatory  symptoms  began  to  develop  them¬ 
selves,  until,  at  last,  in  the  midst  of  an  imposing  sen¬ 
tence,  in  which  he  had  carried  his  audience  to  the 
Vatican,  and  invested  Lord  John  Bussell  with  the 


ms  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


327 


temporary  custody  of  the  keys  of  St.  Peter,  the  mirth 
grew  fast  and  furious ;  somnolent  scraires  woke  up  and 
joined  in  sympathy,  and  the  house  resounded,  with 
irrepressible  peals  of  laughter.  Mortified  and  indig¬ 
nant,  the  orator  sat  down,  closing  with  these  memorable 
words :  “  I  sit  down  now,  but  the  time  will  come  when 
you  will  hear  me !”  In  the  mortification  of  that  night, 
we  doubt  not,  was  born  a  resolute  working  for  the 
fulfillment  of  those  words.  It  was  an  arduous  struggle. 
There  were  titled  claimants  for  renown  among  his  com¬ 
petitors,  and  he  had  to  break  down  the  exclusivism. 
There  was  a  suspicion  of  political  adventuring  at  work, 
and  broadly  circulated,  and  he  had  this  to  overcome. 
Above  all,  he  had  to  live  down  the  remembrance  of  his 
failure.  But  there  was  the  consciousness  of  power,  and 
the  fall  which  would  have  crushed  the  coward  made 
the  brave  man  braver.  Warily  walking,  and  steadily 
toiling,  through  the  chance  of  years,  seizing  the  oppor¬ 
tunity  as  it  came,  and  always  biding  his  time,  he 
climbed  upward  to  the  distant  summit,  prejudice 
melted  like  snow  beneath  his  feet,  and  in  1852,  fifteen 
short  years  after  his  apparent  annihilation,  he  was  in 
her  Majesty’s  Privy  Council,  styling  himself  Big  it 
Honorable,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  leader  of 

the  British  House  of  Commons. 

Sirs,  are  there  difficulties  in  your  path,  hindering 
your  pursuit  of  knowledge,  restraining  your  benevolent 
endeavor,  making  your  spiritual  life  a  contest  and  a 
toil?  Be  thankful  for  them.  They  will  test  your 


328 


THE  PEOPHET  OF  HOEEB, 


capabilities  of  resistance.  You  will  be  impelled  to 
persevere  from  the  very  energy  of  the  opposition.  If 
there  be  any  might  in  your  soul,  like  the  avalanche  of 
snow,  it  will  require  additional  momentum  from  the 
obstacles  which  threaten  to  impede  it.  Many  a  man 
has  thus  robed  himself  in  the  spoils  of  a  vanquished 
difficulty,  and  his  conquests  have  accumulated  at  every 
onward  and  upward  step,  until  he  has  rested  from  his 
labor — the  successful  athlete  who  has  thrown  the  world. 
“An  unfortunate  illustration,”  you  are  ready  to  say, 
“  for  all  cannot  win*the  Olympic  crown,  nor  wear  the 
Isthmian  laurel.  What  of  him  who  fails?  How  is  he 
recompensed  ?  What  does  he  gain  ?”  What  ?  Why, 
Steen gth  foe  Life.  His  training  has  insured  him  that. 
He  will  never  forget  the  gymnasium  and  its  lessons. 
He  will  always  be  a  stalwart  man,  a  man  of  muscle 
and  of  sinew.  The  eeal  meeit  is  not  in  the  success, 
but  in  the  endeavoe,  and,  win  or  lose,  he  will  be 
honored  and  crowned. 

It  may  be  that  the  sphere  of  some  of  you  is  that  of 
endurance  rather  than  of  enterprise.  You  are  not 
called  to  aggress,  but  to  resist.  The  power  to  work  has 
reached  its  limit  for  a  while ;  the  power  to  wait  must 
be  exerted.  There  are  periods  in  our  history  when 
Providence  shuts  us  up  to  the  exercise  of  faith,  when 
patience  and  fortitude  are  more  valuable  than  valor  and 
courage,  and  when  any  “further  struggle  would  but 
defeat  our  prospects  and  embarrass  our  aims.”  To 
resist  the  powerful  temptation  ;  to  overcome  the  beset- 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


329 


ting  sin ;  to  restrain  the  sudden  impulse  ot  anger ,  to 
keep  sentinel  over  the  door  of  the  lips,  and  turn  back 
the  biting  sarcasm,  and  the  word  unkind  ;  to  be  patient 
under  unmerited  censure ;  amid  opposing  friends,  and  a 
scoffing  world,  to  keep  the  faith  high  and  the  purpose 
firm ;  to  watch  through  murky  night  and  howling  storm 
for  the  coming  day ;  in  these  cases,  to  be  still  is  to.  be 
brave ;  what  Burke  has  called  a  “  masterly  inactivity  ” 
is  our  highest  prowess,  and  quietude  is  the  part  of  hero¬ 
ism.  There  is  a  young  man  in  business,  battling  with 
some  strong  temptation,  by  which  he  is  vigorously 
assailed ;  he  is  solicited  to  engage  in  some  unlawful 
undertaking,  with  the  prospect  of  immediate  and  lucra¬ 
tive  returns.  Custom  pleads  prescription :  “  It  is  done 
every  day.”  Partiality  suggests  that  so  small  a  devia¬ 
tion  will  never  be  regarded — “Is  it  not  a  little  one? 
Interest  reminds  him  that  by  his  refusal  his  “  craft  will 
be  in  danger.”  Compromise  is  sure  that  “  when  he 
bows  himself  in  the  house  of  Kimmon,  the  Lord  will 
pardon  his  servant  in  this  thing.”  All  these  fearful 
voices  are  urging  his  compliance.  But  the  Abdiel- 
conscience  triumphs— help  is  invoked  where  it  can 
never  be  invoked  in  vain,  and  he  spurns  the  temptation 
away.  Is  he  not  a  hero?  Earth  may  despise  such  a 
victory,  but  he  can  afford  that .  scorning  when,  on 
account  of  him,  “there  is  joy  in  heaven.”^  Oh,  there 
are,  day  by  day,  vanishing  from  the  world  s  presence, 
those  of  whom  she  wotteth  not;  whose  heritage  has 
been  a  heritage  of  suffering ;  who,  in  the  squalors  of 


330 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


poverty,  liave  gleaned  a  hallowed  chastening;  from 
whom  the  fires  of  sickness  have  scaled  their  eartliliness 
away,  and  they  have  grown  np  into  such  transcendent 
and  archangel  beauty,  that  Death,  God’s  eagle,  sweeps 
them  into  heaven.  Murmur  not,  then,  if,  in  the 
inscrutable  allotments  of  Providence,  you  are  called  to 
suffer,  rather  than  to  do.  There  is  a  time  to  labor,  and 
there  is  a  time  to  refrain.  The  completeness  of  the 
Christian  character  consists  in  energetic  working,  when 
working  is  practicable,  and  in  submissive  waiting,  when 
waiting  is  necessary.  You  believe  that  beyond  the 
waste  of  waters  there  is  a  rich  land  to  be  discovered, 
and,  like  Columbus,  you  have  manned  the  vessel  and 
hopefully  set  sail.  But  your  difficulties  are  increasing. 
The  men’s  hearts  are  failing  them  for  fear;  they  wept 
when  you  got  out  of  sight  of  land ;  the  distance  is 
greater  than  you  thought :  there  is  a  weary  and  unva¬ 
ried  prospect  of  only  sky  and  sea ;  you  have  not  spoken 
a  ship  nor  exchanged  a  greeting;  your  crew  are  becom¬ 
ing  mutinous,  and  brand  you  mad ;  officers  and  men 
crowd  round  you,  savagely  demanding  return.  Move 
not  a  hair’s  breadth.  Command  the  craven  spirits  to 
their  duty.  Bow  them  before  the  grandeur  of  your 
courage,  and  the  triumph  of  your  faith  : 

“  Husliing  every  muttered  murmur, 

Let  your  fortitude  the  firmer 
Gird  your  soul  with  strength  ; 

While,  no  treason  neat-  her  lurking, 

Patience  in  her  perfect  working, 

Shall  be  queen  at  length.” 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


331 


Ha  !  What  is  it  ?  What  says  the  watcher  ?  Land  in 
the  distance  !  Ho  ;  not  yet— hut  there’s  a  hopeful  fra¬ 
grance  in  the  breeze ;  the  sounding-line  gives  shallower 
and  yet  shallower  water;  the  tiny  land-birds  flutter 
round,  venturing  on  timid  wing  to  give  their  joyous 
welcome.  Spread  the  canvas  to  the  wind  ;  by  and  by 
there  shall  be  the  surf-wave  on  the  strand ;  the  summits 
of  the  land  of  promise  visible ;  the  flag  flying  at  the 
harbor’s  mouth,  and  echoing  from  grateful  hearts  and 
manly  voices,  the  swelling  spirit-hymn,  “  So  he  bringeth 
us  to  our  desired  haven.” 

We  are  taught  by  the  Prophet’s  history  the  evil  of 
undue  disquietude  about  the  aspect  of  the  times.  The 
followers  of  Baal  had  been  stung  to  madness  by  their 
defeat  on  Carmel,  and  Jezebel,  their  patroness,  mourn¬ 
ing  over  her  slaughtered  priests,  swore  by  her  idol-gods 
that  she  would  have  the  Prophet’s  life  for  theirs.  On 
this  being  reported  to  Elijah,  he  seems  to  be  paralyzed 
with  fear,  all  his  former  confidence  in  God  appears  to 
be  forgotten,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  mighty  de¬ 
liverances  of  the  past  fails  to  sustain  him  under  the 
pressure  of  this  new  trial.  Such  is  poor  human  nature. 
He  before  whom  the  tyrant  Aliab  had  quailed  he 
whose  prayer  had  suspended  the  course  of  nature,  and 
sealed  up  the  fountains  of  heaven  ;  he  who,  in  the  face 
of  all  Israel,  had  confronted  and  conquered  eight  hun¬ 
dred  and  fifty  men — terrified  at  the  threat  of  an  angry 
woman,  flees  in  precipitation  and  in  terror,  and,  hope¬ 
less  for  the  time  of  his  own  safety,  and  of  the  success  of 


332  THE  PKOPHET  OF  HOREB, 

his  endeavors  for  the  good  of  Israel,  wanders  off  into  the 
wilderness,  and  sighs  forth  his  feelings  in  the  peevish 
and  melancholy  utterance  :  Let  me  die.  “  It  is  enough 
— now,  O  Lord  God,  take  away  my  life,  for  I  am  no 
better  than  my  fathers.”  This  desertion  of  duty,  failure 
of  faith,  sudden  cowardice,  unwarranted  despondency, 
petulance,  and  murmuring,  are  characteristics  of  modern 
no  less  than  ancient  days.  There  is  one  class  of  observ¬ 
ers,  indeed,  who  are  not  troubled  with  any  disquietude ; 
to  whom  all  wears  the  tint  of  the  rose-light,  and  who 
are  disposed  to  regard  the  apprehensions  of  their  soberer 
neighbors  as  dyspeptic  symptoms,  or  as  incipient  liypo- 
chondriacism.  Whenever  the  age  is  mentioned,  they  go 
off*  in  an  ecstasy.  They  are  like  the  Malvern  patients, 
of  whom  Sir  Lytton  Bulwer  tells,  who,  after  having 
made  themselves  extempore  mummies  in  the  “  pack,” 
and  otherwise  undergone  their  matutinal  course  of  hy¬ 
dropathy,  are  so  intensely  exhilarated,  and  have  such 
an  exuberance  of  animal  spirits,  that  they  are  obliged 
to  run  a  considerable  distance  for  the  sake  of  working 
themselves  off.  Their  volubility  of  praise  is  extraordi¬ 
nary,  and  it  is  only  when  they  are  thoroughly  out  of 
breath,  that  you  have  the  chance  to  edge  in  a  syllable. 
They  tell  us  that  the  age  is  “  golden,”  auriferous  in  all 
its  developments,  transcending  all  others  in  immediate 
advantage  and  in  auguries  of  future  good.  We  are 
pointed  to  the  kindling  love  of  freedom,  to  the  quick¬ 
ened  onset  of  inquiry,  to  the  stream  of  legislation  broad¬ 
ening  as  it  flows,  to  the  increase  of  hereditary  mind,  to 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


333 


the  setting  further  and  further  hack  ot  the  old  land¬ 
marks  of  improvement,  and  to  the  inclosure  of  whole 
acres  of  intellectual  and  moral  waste,  thought  formerly 
not  worth  the  tillage.  We  would  not  for  one  moment 
he  understood  to  undervalue  these  and  other  signs, 
equally  and  yet  more  encouraging.  On  the  other  hand, 
though  no  alarmists,  we  would  not  he  insensible  to  the 
fears  of  those  who  tell  us  that  we  are  in  danger ;  that 
our  liberty,  of  which  we  boast  ourselves,  is  strangely 
like  licentiousness  ;  that  our  intellectual  eminence  may 
prove  practical  folly ;  that  our  liberality  verges  on  in- 
differentism ;  and  that  our  chiefest  dignity  is  our  yet- 
unhumbled  pride,  that  (f)p6v7]pa  oapnoq ,  which,  in  all  its 
varieties,  and  in  all  its  conditions,  is  “  enmity  against 
God.”  A  very  cursory  glance  at  the  state  of  things 
around  us  will  suffice  to  show  that  with  the  dawn  of  a 
brighter  day  there  are  blent  some  gathering  clouds. 

Amid  those  who  have  named  the  Master’s  name, 
there  is  much  which  calls  for  caution  and  for  warning. 
Political  strife,  fierce  and  absorbing,  leading  the  mind 
off  from  the  realities  of  its  own  condition ;  a  current  of 
worldly  conformity  setting  in  strongly  upon  the  churches 
of  the  land ;  the  ostentation  and  publicity  of  religious 
enterprises  prompting  to  the  neglect  of  meditation  and 
of  secret  prayer ;  sectarian  bitterness  in  its  sad  and 
angry  developments  ;  the  multiform  and  lamentable 
exhibitions  of  practical  Antinomianism  which  abound 
among  us — all  these  have,  in  their  measure,  prevented 
the  fulfillment  of  the  Church’s  mission  in  the  world. 


334 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


If  you  look  outside  the  pale  of  the  churches,  viewed 
from  a  Christian  stand-point,  the  aspect  is  somewhat 
alarming.  Crime  does  not  diminish.  The  records  of 
our  offices  of  police  and  of  our  courts  of  justice  are 
perfectly  appalling.  Intemperance,  like  a  mighty  gulf- 
stream,  drowns  its  thousands.  The  Sabbath  is  system¬ 
atically  desecrated,  and  profligacy  yet  exerts  its  power 
to  fascinate  and  to  ruin  souls.  And  then,  deny  it  as 
we  will,  there  is  the  engrossing  power  of  Mammon. 
Covetousness — the  sin  of  the  heart,  of  the  Church,  of 
the  world — is  found  everywhere  ;  lurking  in  the  guise 
of  frugality,  in  the  poor  man’s  dwelling ;  dancing  in 
the  shape  of  gold-fields  and  Australia  before  the  flat¬ 
tered  eye  of  youth ;  shrined  in  the  marts  of  the  busy 
world,  receiving  the  incense  and  worship  of  the  traders 
in  vanity ;  arrayed  in  purple,  and  faring  sumptuously 
every  day,  in  the  'mansion  of  Dives ;  twining  itself 
round  the  pillars  of  the  sanctuary  of  God  ;  it  is  the 
great  world-emperor  still,  swaying  an  absolute  author¬ 
ity,  with  legions  of  subordinate  vices  to  watch  its  nod, 
and  to  perform  its  bidding. 

Then,  besides  this  iniquity  of  practical  ungodliness, 
there  is  also  the  iniquity  of  theoretical  opinion.  There 
is  Popery,  that  antiquated  superstition,  which  is  coming 
forth  in  its  decrepitude,  rouging  over  its  wrinkles,  and 
flaunting  itself,  as  it  used  to  do  in  its  well-remembered 
youth.  There  are  the  various  ramifications  of  the 
subtile  spirit  of  Unbelief :  Atheism ,  discarding  its  former 
audacity  of  blasphemy,  assuming  now  a  modest  garb 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


335 


and  mendicant  whine,  asking  our  pity  for  its  idiosyn¬ 
crasy,  bewailing  its  misfortune  in  not  being  able  to 
believe  that  there  is  a  God;  Rationalism,  whether  in 
the  transcendentalism  of  Hegel,  or  in  the  allegorizing 
impiety  of  Strauss,  or  in  the  pantheistic  philosophy  of 
Fichte,  eating  out  the  heart  of  the  Gospel,  into  which 
its  vampire-fangs  have  fastened ;  Latitudinarianism  on 
a  sentimental  journey  in  search  of  the  religious  instinct, 
doling  out  its  equal  and  niggard  praise  to  it  wherever 
it  is  found,  in  Fetichism,  Thuggism,  Mohammedanism,  or 
Christianity;  that  species  of  active  and  high-sounding 
skepticism,  which,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  we  may 
call  a  Credophobia,  which  selects  the  confessions  and 
catechisms  as  the  objects  of  its  especial  hostility,  and 
which,  knowing  right  well  that  if  the  banner  is  down, 
the  courage  fails,  and  the  army  will  be  routed  or  slain, 

“  furious  as  a  wounded  bull,  runs  tearing  at  the  creeds ;” 
these,  with  all  their  off-shots  and  dependencies  (for  then- 
name  is  Legion)  grouped  under  the  generic  style  of  Infi¬ 
delity,  have  girt  themselves  for  the  combat,  and  aie 
asserting  and  endeavoring  to  establish  their  empire  over 
the  intellects  and  consciences  of  men.  And  as  this 
spirit  of  Unbelief  has  many  sympathies  with  the  spirit 
of  Superstition,  they  have  entered  into  unholy  alliance 
—“Herod  and  Pilate  have  been  made  friends  to¬ 
gether”— and  hand  joined  in  hand,  they  are  arrayed 
against  the  truth  of  God.  Oh,  rare  John  Bunyan! 
Was  he  not  among  the  prophets?  Listen  to  his  descrip¬ 
tion  of  the  last  army  of  Diabolus  before  the  final 


33(5 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


triumph  of  Immanuel :  “  Ten  thousand  Doubters,  and 
fifteen  thousand  Bloodmen,  and  old  Incredulity  was 
again  made  general  of  the  army.” 

In  this  aspect  of  the  age  its  tendencies  are  not  always 
upward,  nor  its  prospects  encouraging,  and  we  can 
understand  the  feeling  which  bids  the  Elis  of  our  Israel 
“  sit  by  the  wayside,  watching,  for  their  hearts  tremble 
for  the  ark  of  God.”  We  seem  to  be  in  the  mysterious 
twilight  of  which  the  prophet  speaks,  “  The  light  shall 
not  be  clear  nor  dark,  but  one  day  'known  unto  the  Lord , 
not  dav  nor  night.”  Ah !  here  is  our  consolation.  It 
is  “  known  unto  the  Lord ;”  then  our  faith  must  not  be 
weakened  by  distrust,  nor  our  labor  interrupted  by  fear. 
“  It  is  known  unto  the  Lord ;”  and  from  the  mount  of 
Horeb  he  tells  us  that  in  the  secret  places  of  the  heritage 
there  are  seven  thousand  that  have  not  bowed  the  knee 
to  Baal.  It  is  “  known  unto  the  Lord ;”  and  while  we 
pity  the  Prophet  in  the  wilderness  asking  for  a  solitary 
death,  death  under  a  cloud,  death  in  judgment,  death  in 
sorrow,  he  draws  aside  the  veil,  and  shows  us  heaven 
preparing  to  do  him  honor,  the  celestial  escort  making 
ready  to  attend  him,  the  horses  being  harnessed  into  the 
chariot  of  fire. 

Sirs,  if  there  be  this  opposition,  be  it  ours  to  “  con¬ 
tend  ”  the  more  “  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  delivered 
to  the  saints.”  Many  are  persuading  us  to  give  up  and 
abandon  our  creeds.  We  ought  rather  to  hold  them 
with  a  firmer  grasp,  and  infuse  -into  them  a  holier  life. 
We  can  imagine  how  the  infidel  would  accost  an  intelli- 


337 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 

gent  and  hearty  believer.  “Be  independent;  don’t 
continue  any  longer  in  leading  strings,  taking  yonr  faith 
from  the  ipse  dixit  of  another;  use  your  senses,  which 
are  the  only  means  of  knowledge ;  cast  yonr  confessions 
and  rituals  away;  a  strong  man  needs  no  crutches.” 
And  we  can  imagine  the  reply.  “Brother,  the  simile 
is  not  a  happy  one— my  creed  is  not  a  crutch— it  is  a 
highway  thrown  up  by  former  travellers  to  the  land 
that  is  afar  off.  ‘  Other  men  have  labored,’  and  of  my 
own  free  will  I  ‘  enter  into  their  labor.’  If  tlion  art  dis¬ 
posed  to  clear  the  path  with  thy  own  hatchet,  with 
lurking  serpents  underneath  and  knotted  branches  over¬ 
head,  God  speed  thee,  my  brother,  for  thy  work  is  of 
the  roughest,  and  while  thou  art  resting— fatigued  and 
‘  considering  ’—tliou  mayest  die  before  thou  hast  come 
upon  the  truth.  I  am  grateful  to  the  modern  Macada¬ 
mizes  who  have  toiled  for  the  coming  time.  Commend 
me  to  the  King’s  highway.  I  am  not  bound  in  it  with 
fetters  of  iron.  I  can  climb  the  hill  for  the  sake  of  a 
wider  landscape.  I  can  cross  the  stile,  that  I  may  slake 
my  thirst  at  the  old  moss-covered  well  in  the  field.  I 
can  saunter  down  the  woodland  glade,  and  gather  the 
wild  heart’s-ease  that  peeps  from  among  the  tangled 
fern  ;  but  I  go  back  to  the  good  old  path  where  the  pil¬ 
grim’s  tracks  are  visible,  and,  like  the  shining  light,  ^it 
grows  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect  day.’ 
Sirs  this  is  not  the  time  for  ns  to  be  done  with  creeds. 
They  are,  in  the  various  churches,  their  individual  em¬ 
bodiments  of  what  they  believe  to  be  truth,  and  their 

15 


338  the  prophet  of  horeb, 

individual  protests  against  what  they  deem  to  he  error. 
“Give  up  our  theology!”  says  Mr.  James  of  Birming¬ 
ham;  “then  farewell  to  our  piety.  Give  up  our 
theology !  then  dissolve  our  churches ;  for  our  churches 
are  founded  upon  truth.  Give  up  our  theology  !  then 
next  vote  our  Bibles  to  be  myths.  And  this  is  clearly 
the  aim  of  many,  the  destruction  of  all  these  together; 
our  piety,  our  churches,  our  Bibles.”  This  testimony  is 
true.  There  cannot  be  an  attack  upon  the  one  without 
damage  and  mischief  to  the  other. 


“  Just  as  in  old  mythology, 

What  time  the  woodman  slew 
Each  poet-worshipped  forest-tree — 

He  killed  its  Dryad  too.” 

So  as  the  assault  upon  these  expressions  of  Christianity 
is  successful,  the  spiritual  presence  enshrined  in  them 
will  languish  and  die.  “Hold  fast,”  then,  “the  form 
of  sound  words.”  Amid  the  war  of  sentiment  and  the 
jangling  of  false  philosophy,  though  the  sophist  may 
denounce,  and  though  the  fool  may  laugh,  let  your 
high  resolve  go  forth  to  the  moral  universe ;  “  I  am 
determined  to  know  nothing  among  men  save  Christ 
and  him  crucified.” 

There  is  another  matter  to  which,  if  you  would  suc¬ 
cessfully  join  in  resistance  to  the  works  of  evil,  you  must 
give  earnest  heed,  and  that  is  the  desirableness,  I  had 
almost  said  the  necessity — I  will  say  it,  for  it  is  my 
solemn  conviction,  and  why  should  it  not  be  manfully 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


339 


out-spoken  ? — tlie  necessity  of  public  dedication  to  the 
service  of  your  Master— Christ.  You  will  readily  admit 
that  confession  is  requisite  for  the  completeness  of 
disciplesliip ;  and  you  cannot  have  forgotten  how  the 
Apostle  has  linked  it  to  faith.  “  Confess  with  thy  mouth, 
and  believe  with  thine  heart.”  To  such  confession,  m 
the  present  day,  at  all  events,  church-fellowship  ,  is 
necessary.  You  cannot  adequately  make  it  in  social 
intercourse,  nor  by  a  consistent  example,  nor  even  by  a 
decorous  attendance  with  outer-court  worshippers.  There 
must  be  public  and  solemn  union  with  the  Church  of 
Christ.  The  influence  of  this  avowed  adhesion  ought 
not  to  be  forgotten.  A  solitary  “  witness  ”  of  obedience 
or  faith  is  lost,  like  an  invisible  atom  in  the  air ;  it  is 
the  union  of  each  particle,  in  itself  insignificant,  which 
makes  up  the  “  cloud  of  witnesses  ”  which  the  world 
can  see.  Your  own  admirable  Society  exemplifies  the 
advantage  of  association  in  benevolent  and  Christian 
enterprise,  and  the  Churches  of  the  land,  maligned 
as  they  have  been  by  infidel  slanderers,  and  imper¬ 
fectly— very  imperfectly— as  they  have  borne  witness 
for  God,  have  yet  been  the  great  breakwaters  against 
error  and  sin,  the  blest  Elims  to  the  desert  wayfarer, 
the  tower  of  strengtli  in  the  days  of  siege  and  strife. 
Permit  us  to  urge  this  matter  upon  you.  Of  course  we 
do  not  pretend  to  specify— that  were  treason  against 
the  noble  catholicity  of  this  Society— though  each  oi 
your  lecturers  has  the  Church  of  his  intelligent  pre¬ 
ference,  and  we  are  none  of  us  ashamed  of  our  own ; 


340 


THE  PROPHET  OF  nOREB, 


but  we  do  mean  to  say,  that  you  ought  to  join  your¬ 
selves  to  that  Church  which  appears  to  your  prayerful 
judgment  to  be  most  in  accordance  with  the  .New Testa¬ 
ment,  there  to  render  whatever  you  possess  of  talent, 
and  influence,  and  labor.  This  is  my  testimony,  sin¬ 
cerely  and  faithfully  given ;  and  if,  in  its  utterance,  it 
shall,  by  God’s  blessing,  recall  one  wanderer  to  alle¬ 
giance,  or  constrain  one  waverer  to  decision,  it  will  not 
have  been  spoken  in  vain. 

Yet  once  more  upon  this  head.  There  must  be 
deeper  piety,  more  influential  and  transforming  godli¬ 
ness.  An  orthodox  creed,  valuable  Church  privileges — 
what  are  these  without  personal  devotedness  ?  They 
must  be  faithful  laborers — men  of  consecrated  hearts — 
who  are  to  do  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Believe  me,  the 
depth  of  apostolic  piety,  and  the-  fervor  of  apostolic 
prayer,  are  required  for  the  exigencies  of  the  present 
and  coming  time.  That  Clmrcli  of  the  future,  which  is 
to  absorb  into  itself  the  regenerated  race,  must  be  a 
living  and  a  holy  Church.  Scriptural  principles  must 
be  enunciated  by  us  all,  with  John  the  Baptist’s  fear¬ 
lessness,  and  with  John  the  Evangelist’s  love.  It  is  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  fidelity  and  affection  are 
unfriendly.  The  highest  achievements  in  knowledge, 
the  most  splendid  revelations  of  God,  are  reserved  in  his 
wisdom  for  the  man  of  perfect  love.  Who  but  the 
beloved  disciple  could  worm  out  of  the  Master’s  heart 
the  foul  betrayer’s  name  ?  Whose  heart  but  his  was 
large  enough  to  hold  the  Apocalypse,  which  was  flur.g 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


341 


into  it  in  the  island  of  Patmos  ?  There  must  he  this 
union  of  deepest  faithfulness  and  deepest  love  to 
fit  us  for  the  coming  age ;  and  to  get  it,  we  must 
just  do  as  John  did :  we  must  lie  upon  the  Master’s 
bosom  until  the  smile  of  the  Master  has  burned  out 
of  our  hearts  all  earthlier  and  coarser  passion,  and  has 
chastened  the  bravery  of  the  hero  by  the  meekness  of 


the  child. 

The  great  lesson  which  is  taught  us  in  the  Prophet’s 
history,  is  that  which  was  taught  to  him  by  the  revelation 
on  Horeb,  that  the  Word  is  God's  chosen  instrumentality 
for  the  Church's  progress,  and  for  the  world's  recovery. 
There  were  other  lessons,  doubtless,  for  his  personal 
benefit.  He  had  deserted  its  duty  and  was  rebuked ; 
he  had  become  impatient  and  exasperated,  and  was 
calmed  down ;  craven-hearted  and  unbelieving,  he  was 
fortified  by  the  display  of  God’s  power  ;  dispirited  and 
wishing  angrily  for  death,  he  was  consoled  with 
promise,  and  prepared  for  future  usefulness  and  duty. 
Put  the  grand  lesson  of  all  was,  that  Jehovah,  when  he 
works,  works  not  with  the  turbulence  and  passion  of  a 
man,  but  with  the  stillness  and  grandeur  of  a  God. 
«  jpe  was  not  in  the  whirlwind,  nor  m  the  earthquake, 
nor  in  the  fire,  but  in  the  still,  small  voice.”  And  so  it 
is  still.  “  The  whirlwind  ”  of  battle,  “  the  earthquake  ” 
of  political  convulsion  and  change,  “  the  fire  ”  of  the 
loftiest  intellect,  or  of  the  most  burning  eloquence,  are 
valueless  to  uplift  and  to  regenerate  the  world.  They 
may  be,  they  very  often  are,  the  forerunners  of  the 


342  the  peophet  of  hoeee, 

moral  triumph,  hut  God’s  power  is  in  his  Gospel,  God’s 
presence  is  in  his  Word.  Here  it  is  that  we  are  at 
issue,  at  deep  and  deadly  issue,  with  the  pseudo-philoso¬ 
phers  and  benevolent  “  considerers  ”  who  profess  to  be 
toiling  in  the  same  cause  as  ourselves.  They  discrown 
Christ ;  they  ignore  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit ; 
they  proclaim  the  perfectibility  of  their  nature  in  itself ; 
they  have  superseded  the  Word  as  an  instrument  of 
progress;  and,  of  their  own  masonry,  are  piling  up  a 
tower,  if  haply  it  may  reach  unto  heaven.  This  is  the 
great  problem  of  the  age.  Do  not  let  us  deceive  our¬ 
selves.  There  are  men,  earnest,  thoughtful,  working, 
clever  men,  intent  upon  the  question.  Statesmanship 
has  gathered  up  its  political  appliances ;  civilization  has 
exhibited  her  humanizing  art ;  philanthropy  has  reared 
educational,  and  mechanics’,  and  all  other  sorts  of  insti¬ 
tutes  ;  amiable  dreamers  of  the  Pantheistic  school  have 
mapped  out  in  cloud-land  man’s  progress,  from  the 
transcendental  up  to  the  divine ;  communism  has  flung 
over  all  the  mantle  of  its  apparent  charity,  in  the  folds 
of  which  it  has  darkly  hidden  the  dagger  of  its  terrible 
purpose — nay,  every  man,  now-a-days,  stands  out  a 
ready-made  and  self-confident  artificer,  each  having  a 
psalm,  or  a  doctrine,  or  a  theory,  which  is  to  recreate 
society  and  stir  the  pulses  of  the  world.  And  yet  the 
world  is  not  regenerated,  nor  will  it  ever  be,  by  such 
visionary  projects  as  these.  Call  up  History.  She  will 
bear  impartial  witness.  She  will  tell  you  that,  before 
Christ  came  with  his  Evangel  of  purity  and  freedom, 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


343 


the  finer  the  culture,  the  baser  the  character ;  that  the 
untamed  inhabitant  of  the  old  Hercynian  Forest,  and 
the  Scythian  and  Slavonic  tribes,  who  lived  north  of  the 
Danube  and  the  Khine,  destitute  entirely  of  literary 
and  artistic  skill,  were,  in  morals,  far  superior  to  the 
classic  Greek  and  all-accomplished  Roman.  Call  up 
Experience  ;  she  shall  speak  on  the  matter.  You  have 
increased  in  knowledge;  have  you,  therefore ,  increased 
Jq  piety  ?  You  have  accpnred  a  keenei  aesthetic  suscep 
tibility ;  have  you  gotten  with  it  a  keener  relish  for  the 
spiritually  true?  Your  mind  has  been  led  out  into 
higher  and  yet  higher  education ;  have  you,  by  its  nur¬ 
ture,  been  brought  nearer  to  God?  Experience  throws 
emphasis  into  the  testimony  of  History,  and  both  com¬ 
bine  to  assure  us  that  there  may  be  a  sad  divorce 
between  Intellect  and  Piety,  and  that  the  training  of 
the  mind  is  not  necessarily  inclusive  of  the  culture  and 
discipline  of  the  heart.  Science  may  lead  us  to  the 
loftiest  heights  which  her  inductive  philosophy  has 
scaled ;  art  may  suspend  before  us  her  beautiful  crea¬ 
tions  ;  nature  may  rouse  a  “  fine  turbulence  ”  in  heroic 
souls  ;  the  strength  of  the  hills  may  nerve  the  patriot  s 
arm,  as  the  Swiss  felt  the  inspiration  of  their  mountains 
on  the  Mortgarten  battle-field ;  but  they  cannot,  any  01 
all  of  them,  instate  a  man  in  sovereignty  over  his 
mastering  corruptions,  or  invest  a  race  with  moral 
purity  and  power.  If  the  grand  old  demon,  who  has 
the  world  so  long  in  his  thrall,  is,  by  these  means,  ever 
disturbed  in  his  possession,  it  is  only  that  he  may 


344 


THE  PROPHET  OF  HOKEB, 


wander  into  desert  places,  and  then  return  fresher  for 
the  exercise,  and  bringing  seven  of  his  kindred  more 
inveterate  and  cruel.  No !  if  the  wyorld  is  to  be  re¬ 
generated  at  all,  it  will  be  by  the  “  still,  small  voice 
that  clear  and  marvellous  whisper,  which  is  heard  high 
above  the  din  of  striving  peoples,  and  the  tumult  of 
sentiment  and  passion ;  which  runs  along  the  whole  line 
of  being,  stretching  its  spiritual  telegraph  into  every 
heart,  that  it  may  link  them  all  with  God.  All  human 
speculations  have  alloy  about  them  ;  that  Word  is 
perfect.  All  human  speculations  fail  ;  that  Word 
abideth.  The  Jew  hated  it ;  but  it  lived  on,  while  the 
veil  was  torn  away  from  the  shrine  which  Sliekinah  had 
forsaken,  and  while  Jerusalem  itself  was  destroyed. 
The  Greek  derided  it,  but  it  has  seen  his  philosophy 
effete,  and  his  Acropolis  in  ruins.  The  Roman  threw  it 
to  the  flames,  but  it  rose  from  its  ashes,  and  swooped 
down  upon  the  falling  eagle.  The  reason er  cast  it  into 
the  furnace,  which  his  own  malignity  had  heated 
“  seven  times  hotter  than  its  wont but  it  came  out 
without  the  smell  of  fire.  The  Papist  fastened  serpents 
around  it  to  poison  it,  but  it  shook  them  off  and  felt  no 
harm.  The  infidel  cast  it  overboard  in  a  tempest  of 
sophistry  and  sarcasm,  but  it  rode  gallantly  upon  the 
crest  of  the  proud  waters ;  and  it  is  living  still,  yet 
heard  in  the  loudest  swelling  of  the  storm ;  it  has  been 
speaking  all  the  while ;  it  is  speaking  now.  The  world 
gets  higher  at  its  every  tone,  and  it  shall  ultimately 
speak  in  power,  until  it  has  spoken  this  dismantled 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


345 


planet  up  again  into  tlie  smiling  brotherhood  of  worlds 
which  kept  their  first  estate,  and  God,  welcoming  the 
prodigal,  shall  look  at  it  as  he  did  in  the  beginning,  and 
pronounce  it  to  be  very  good. 

It  is  as  they  abide  by  his  Word,  and  guard  sacredly 
this  precious  treasure,  that  nations  stand  or  fall.  The 
empires  of  old,  where  are  they?  Their  power  is 
dwarfed  or  gone.  Their  glory  is  only  known  by  tradi¬ 
tion.  Their  deeds  are  only  chronicled  in  song.  But, 
amid  surrounding  ruin,  the  Ark  of  God  blesses  the 
house  of  Obed-Edom.  We  dwell  not  now  on  our 
national  greatness.  That  is  the  orator’s  eulogy  and  the 
poet’s  theme.  We  remember  our  religious  advantages 
— God  recognized  in  our  Senate,  his  name  stamped  on 
our  currency,  his  blessing  invoked  upon  our  Queen,  our 
Gospel  ministry,  our  religious  freedom,  our  unfettered 
privilege,  our  precious  Sabbath,  our  unsealed,  entire, 
wide-open  Bible.  “  God  hath  not  dealt  with  any  nation 
as  he  hath  dealt  with  us,”  and  for  this  same  purpose  our 
possessions  are  extensive,  and  our  privileges  secure — 
that  we  may  maintain  among  ourselves,  and  diffuse 
amid  the  peoples,  the  Gospel  of  the  blessed  God.  Alas ! 
that  our  country  has  not  been  true  to  her  responsibility, 
nor  lavish  of  her  strength  for  God.  It  would  be  well 
for  us,  and  it  is  a  startling  alternative,  if  the  curse  of 
Meroz  were  our  only  heritage  of  wrath — if  our  only 
guilt  were  that  we  “  came  not  up  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord  against  the  mighty.”  But  we  have  not  merely 
been  indifferent — we  have  been  hostile.  The  cupidity 


346 


TIIE  PROPHET  OF  HOREB, 


of  our  merchants,  the  profligacy  of  our  soldiers  and 
sailors,  the  impiety  of  our  travellers,  have  hindered  the 
work  of  the  Lord.  Our  Government  has  patronized 
paganism ;  our  soldiery  have  saluted  an  idol ;  our 
cannon  have  roared  in  homage  to  a  senseless  stone — 
nay,  we  have  even  pandered  to  the  prostitution  of  a 
continent,  and  to  the  murder  of  thousands  of  her  sons, 
debauched  and  slain  by  the  barbarities  of  their  religion 
— and,  less  conscientious  than  the  priests  of  old,  we 
have  flung  into  the  national  treasury  the  hire  of  that 
adultery  and  blood.  Oh !  if  the  righteous  God  were  to 
make  inquisition  for  blood,  wpon  the  testimony  of  how 
many  slaughtered  witnesses  might  he  convict  pampered 
and  lordly  Britain !  There  is  need — strong  need — for 
our  national  humiliation  and  prayer.  He  who  girt  us 
with  power  can  dry  up  the  sinews  of  our  strength. 
Let  but  his  anger  be  kindled  by  our  repeated  infideli¬ 
ties,  and  our  country  shall  fall.  More  magnificent  than 
Babylon  in  the  profusion  of  her  opulence,  she  shall  be 
more  sudden  than  Babylon  in  her  ruin ;  more  renowned 
than  Carthage  for  her  military  triumphs,  shall  be  more 
desolate  than  Carthage  in  her  mourning  ;  princelier 
than  Tyre  in  her  commercial  greatness,  shall  be  more 
signal  than  Tyre  in  her  fall ;  wider  than  Borne  in  her 
extent  of  territorial  dominion,  shall  be  more  prostrate 
than  Borne  in  her  enslavement ;  prouder  than  Greece 
in  her  eminence  of  intellectual  culture,  shall  be  more 
degraded  than  Greece  in  her  darkening ;  more  exalted 
than  Capernaum  in  the  fullness  'of  her  religious  privi 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


347 


lege,  sliall  be  more  appalling  than  Capernaum  in  the 
deep  damnations  of  her  doom. 

Young  men,  it  is  for  you  to  redeem  your  country 
from  this  terrible  curse.  “  The  holy  seed  shall  be  the 
substance  thereof.”  As  you,  and  those  like  you,  are 
impure  or  holy,  you  may  draw  down  the  destruction, 
or  conduct  it  harmlessly  away.  You  cannot  live  to 
yourselves.  Every  word  you  utter  makes  its  impres¬ 
sion  ;  every  deed  you  do  is  fraught  with  influences — 
successive,  concentric,  imparted — which  may  be  felt  for 
ages.  This  is  a  terrible  power  which  you  have,  and  it 
clings  to  you ;  you  cannot  shake  it  off.  IIow  will  you 
exert  it?  We  place  two  characters  before  you.  Here 
is  one — he  is  decided  in  his  devotedness  to  God  ;  pains¬ 
taking  in  his  search  for  truth ;  strong  in  benevolent 
purpose  and  holy  endeavor ;  wielding  a  blessed  influ¬ 
ence  ;  failing  oft,  but  ceasing  never ;  ripening  with  the 
lapse  of  years  ;  the  spirit  mounting  upon  the  breath  of 
its  parting  prayer ;  the  last  enemy  destroyed ;  his 
memory  green  for  ages  ;  and  grateful  thousands  chisel¬ 
ling  on  his  tomb :  “  He,  being  dead,  yet  speaketh.” 
There  is  another — he  resists  religious  impressions ;  out¬ 
grows  the  necessity  for  prayer ;  forgets  the  lessons  of 
his  youth,  and  the  admonitions  of  his  godly  home ;  for¬ 
sakes  the  sanctuary ;  sits  in  the  seat  of  the  scorner ; 
laughs  at  religion  as  a  foolish  dream ;  influences  many 
for  evil ;  runs  to  excess  of  wickedness ;  sends,  in  some 
instances,  his  victims  down  before  him ;  is  stricken  with 
premature  old  age ;  has  hopeless  prospects,  and  a  ter- 


MS 


TIIK  PROPHET  OF  II0REB, 


rible  death-bed;  rots  from  the  remembrance  of  his 
fellows;  and  angel-liands  burning  upon  his  gloomy 
sepulchre  the  epitaph  of  his  blasted  life :  “  And  that 

MAN  PERISHED  NOT  ALONE  IN  HIS  INIQUITY.” 

Young  men,  which  will  you  choose?  I  affection¬ 
ately  press  this  question.  Oh,  choose  for  God !  “  Seek 

first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  and 
all  things  ” — science,  art,  poetry,  friendship — “  shall  be 
added  unto  you.”  I  do  unfeignedly  rejoice  that  so 
goodly  a  number  of  you  have  already  decided. 

I  have  only  one  fitness  to  address  you — but  it  is  one 
which  many  of  your  lecturers  cannot  claim — and  that 
is,  a  fitness  of  sympathy.  Your  hopes  are  mine;  with 
your  joys,  at  their  keenest,  I  can  sympathize.  I  have 
not  forgotten  the  glad  hours  of  opening  morning,  when 
the  zephyr  has  a  balmier  breath,  and  through  the 
richly-painted  windows  of  the  fancy,  the  sunlight 
streams  in  upon  the  soul.  I  come  to  you  as  one  of 
yourselves.  Take  my  counsel.  “  My  heart’s  desire  and 
prayer  for  you  is  that  you  may  be  saved.” 

There  is  hope  for  the  future.  The  world  is  moving 
on.  The  great  and  common  mind  of  Humanity  has 
caught  the  charm  of  liallowred  Labor.  Worthy  and  toil- 
worn  laborers  fall  ever  and  anon  in  the  march,  and 
their  fellows  weep  their  loss,  and  then,  dashing  away 
the  tears  which  had  blinded  them,  they  struggle  and 
labor  on.  There  has  been  an  upward  spirit  evoked, 
which  men  will  not  willingly  let  die.  Young  in  its 


HIS  LIFE  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


349 


love  of  tlie  beautiful,  young  in  its  quenchless  thirst  after 
the  true,  we  see  that  buoyant  presence : 

“  In  hand  it  bears,  ’mid  snow  and  ice, 

The  banner  with  the  strange  device  : 

Excelsior  !” 

The  one  note  of  high  music  struck  from  the  great  harp 
of  the  world’s  heart-strings  is  graven  on  that  banner. 
The  student  breathes  it  at  his  midnight  lamp — the  poet 
groans  it  forth  in  those  spasms  of  his  soul,  when  he  can¬ 
not  fling  his  heart’s  beauty  upon  language.  Fair 
fingers  have  wrought  in  secret  at  that  banner.  Many  a 
child  of  poverty  has  felt  its  motto  in  his  soul,  like  the 
last  vestige  of  lingering  divinity.  The  Christian  longs 
it  when  his  faith,  piercing  the  invisible,  “  desires  a 
better  country,  that  is,  an  heavenly.”  Excelsior! 
Excelsior !  Brothers,  let  us  speed  onward  the  youth 
who  holds  that  banner.  Up,  up,  brave  spirit ! 

“  Climb  the  steep  and  starry  road 
To  the  Infinite’s  abode.” 

Up,  up,  brave  spirit !  Spite  of  Alpine  steep  and  frown¬ 
ing  brow,  roaring  blast  and  crashing  flood,  up !  Science 
has  many  a  glowing  secret  to  reveal  thee  !  Faith  has 
many  a  Tabor-pleasure  to  inspire.  Ida  !  does  the  cloud 
stop  thy  progress  ?  Bierce  through  it  to  the  sacred 
morning.  Fear  not  to  approach  the  divinity ;  it  is  his 
own  longing  which  impels  thee.  Thou  art  speeding  to 


350  THE  PROPHET  of  horeb,  his  life  and  its  LESSONS. 

thy  coronation,  brave  spirit !  Up,  up,  brave  spirit ! 
till,  as  thou  pantest  on  the  crest  of  thy  loftiest  achieve¬ 
ment,  God’s  glory  shall  burst  upon  thy  face,  and  God’s 
voice,  blessing  thee  from  his  throne,  in  tones  of  approval 
and  of  welcome,  shall  deliver  thy  guerdon :  “  I  have 
made  thee  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  crowned 
thee  with  glory  and  honor !” 


THE  END. 


46 


^trbg  |atkso»’s  ^ublitafions. 


A  most  interesting  Work. 


THE  RIFLE,  AXE.  AND  SADDLE-BAGS, 

A  VOLUME  OP  LECTURES 

BY  REV.  WILLIAM  HENRY  jVtXijLVTJRJT . 
One  neat  volume,  12mo.  Price  SI  00. 


CONTENTS  (IN  PART). 

THE  SYMBOLS  OF  EARLY  WESTERN  CHARACTER. 

The  Untamed  Wilderness— Daniel  Boone— The  Female  Captive— 
Mysterious  Shot— A  Narrow  Escape— A  Backwoods  Marriage— Wedding 
Dinner  and  Dance — Homes  in  the  Wilderness — Justice  in  the  Backwoods 
Preachers  in  the  Wilderness — The  Preacher’s  Dormitory— Henry  Beidel- 
man  Bascom — “Old  Jimmy’s”  Reproofs — The  Pioneer’s  Work. 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  GENIUS  OYER  BLINDNESS. 

Beauty  and  Effects  of  Light — Eminent  Blind  Men — Remarkable  Sense 
of  Hearing — John  Milton — Premonitions  of  Blindness — Blindness  an  Im¬ 
pediment  to  Oratory — Sympathy  Necessary  to  the  Speaker — The  other 
Senses  Quickened— The  Blind  Man’s  Need  is  his  Gain— “  I  am  Old  and 
Blind.” 

AN  HOUR’S  TALK  ABOUT  WOMAN. 

The  Moral  Greater  than  the  Intellectual— John  Howard  the  Philanthro¬ 
pist-Ancient  and  Modern  Women— Frivolity  a  Prevailing  Evil— Earnest¬ 
ness  of  Female  Authors— Women  the  Best  Literary  Instructors— Woman’s 
Responsibility— The  Power  of  Sympathy— The  Importance  of  Conversa¬ 
tion — Woman  the  True  Reformer. 


EARLY  DISCOVERIES  IN  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


Exploration  of  the  Mississippi— Gold  Unsuccessfully  Sought — Collisions 
with  the  Indians — Attack  upon  the  Chickasaws — Historical  Traditions— 
Incidents  of  Forest  Life— Dispersion  of  the  Settlers  Anglo-Saxon  Su¬ 
premacy. 


Address, 

DERBY  &  JACKSON,  Publishers, 

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AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  BEEP  INTEREST ! 

For  Sale  by  Booksellers,  Preachers,  Colporteurs,  and  Book  Agent  i 

generally. 

TEN  YEARS  OF  PREACHER  LIFE; 

OR,  CHAPTERS  FROM  AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

BY  WILLIAM  HENRY  MILB  URN 

AUTHOa  OF  “  THE  RIFLE  AXE,  AND  SADDLE-BAOS.” 

One  neat  12mo.  volume.  Price,  One  Dollar. 

“  There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  prove  and  stream, 

,  The  earth,  and  every  common  sight, 

To  me  did  seem 
Apparelled  in  celestial  light. 

The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream." 


LIST  OF  THE  CONTENTS  (IN  PART). 


Early  Reminiscence.  The  Accident. 

The  Sick  Chamber.  Surgical  Consultation. 
Two  Years’  Imprisonment. 

Land  of  the  Setting  Sun. 

“  There  were  Giants  in  those  days.” 

The  Backwoods  Preacher. 

The  Saddle-bags  taken  up. 

Let  no  Man  Despise  thy  Youth. 

A  Western  Wedding. 

A  Western  Camp-Meeting. 

An  Exhorter  in  a  Dilemma. 

Liberality  of  Methodists. 

The  Last  Scene  of  Conference. 

Walking  the  Hospital. 

Cry  Aloud  and  Spare  not.  A  Sermon  on 
Deck. 

Its  unexpected  Rewards. 

Heavy  Purse  and  Congressional  Chaplain. 
Necessities  for  Extempore  Speaking. 

A  Stump  Speech  Described. 

Value  of  the  Eye  in  an  Orator. 

Congress  and  two  of  its  Young  Men. 
Congressional  Eloquence. 

Stephen  A.  Douglas. 

Alexander  H.  Stephens. 

Entering  the  Senate  Chamber. 

Memories  of  the  Great  Departed. 

Author’s  First  Prayer  in  Congress. 


Henry  Clay.  John  C.  Calhoun.  Daniel 
Webster. 

Social  Life  in  Washington. 

Attractions  of  the  Capital. 

Power  of  Memory.  Influence  of  Women. 
A  Death-bed  Summons.  Marriage  of  the 
Author. 

Chicago  in  1841, 1846,  and  1865. 

A  Night  Ride  in  a  Deluge.  Narrow  Escape. 
The  Dying  Preacher. 

Grace  in  “  Spots.”  Life  on  Wheels. 

Life  on  the  Mississippi.  A  Boat  Race. 
Passengers  excited.  S.  S.  Prentiss. 

Phelps  the  Desperado.  Riding  the  Circuit. 
Sojourn  in  New  Orleans. 

Alabama  Scenery.  A  Southern  Home. 
Tribute  to  the  South. 

Author  Charged  with  Heresy. 

Stage  Coach  Dialogue.  A  Fearful  Spectacle. 
Strange  Superstition.  The  Anxious  Mo¬ 
ment. 

nomage  to  Ladies.  Southern  Hospitality. 
Southern  Matron.  Southern  Literature. 
Old  Friends  and  Pleasant  Faces. 

The  Pioneer  Preacher.  Western  Cookery. 
A  Night  Scene  in  a  Village  Store. 
Indisposition  of  the  Author. 

Returns  to  New  York.  The  Infant’*  Cry. 


The  above  wUl  be  sent  by  maH,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  prio* 

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*iberal  Discount  to  Preachers  and  Agents.  Address 

DERBY  k  JACKSON, 

119  Nassau  Street,  New  Yc&r. 


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Date  Due 

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